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TllE  CAPTAIN   SAID  NOTHING,  BUT  HIS  UPLIITED   HAND   FELL 
GENTLY  UPON  ROBBIE'S  CURLY  HEAD,"-Paok  40. 


THE 


CAPTAIN'S   BARGAIN. 


BY 

JULIA    McNAIR    WRIGHT, 

AUTHOR    OF   "THE    STORY    OF    RASMUS,   OR    THE    MAKING    OF    A    MAN"; 

"A  MADE  man";    "  the  dragon  and  the  TEA-KETTLE  ";    "HANNAH, 

ONE  OF  THE  STRONG   WOMEN";    "FIREBRANDS";    "NOTHING 

TO   DRINK";    "LIFE   CRUISE   OF   CAPTAIN   BESS   ADAMS"; 

"THE  BEST   FELLOW   IN  THE  WORLD,"   ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORKt 
The  National  Temperance  Society  and  Publication  House, 

58    READE    STREET. 


copyright,  1889,  by 
Th«  Nationai,  Temperance  Society  and  Publication  Housb. 


Edward  O.  Jenkins'  Sons, 
Printers  and  Electrotypers, 
o  Nort>»  Waitam  St.,  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


A  NUMBER  of  months  ago,  reading  a  French 
book  by  an  author  whose  works  are  sometimes 
greatly  good,  and  sometimes — quite  the  re- 
verse, I  remarked  in  the  narrative  a  happy  turn 
which  I  thought  might  be  advantageously  ap- 
plied in  a  Temperance  Story.  The  French 
sketch  was  a  Paris  romance,  not  of  Temper- 
ance, but  among  its  pleasant  chords  was  one 
whereon,  as  to  a  key-note,  I  set  this  history  of 
The  Captain's  Bargain. 

The  French  tale  will  be  no  poorer,  and  mine 
may  have  a  more  ample  variation,  for  that  tonic 
caught  drifting  across  the  sea. 

Julia  McNair  Wright. 

(3) 


2138878 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PACB 

The  Captain's  Indiscretion 7 

CHAPTER  n. 
To  Go,  OR  Not  to  Go  ? 33 

CHAPTER  HI. 
The  Captain's  Bargain 39 

CHAPTER   IV. 
The  Summer  Sun  Shines 55 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Advantages  of  Living  with  a  Philosopher,         71 

CHAPTER   VI. 
The  Superintendent 86 

CHAPTER   VII. 
The  Schoolmaster 101 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
••Mr.  Murray  makes  AN  Offer," 122 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue 139 

(5) 


6  Contents. 

CHAPTER  X. 

PAGB 

Robert  Proves  Himself  A  Hero 156 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Woman  who  went  on  a  Long  Journey,    .       .172 

CHAPTER  Xn. 
Vi  et  Armis 190 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses,     .       .       .       .207 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
"  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman,"   .       .       .    223 

CHAPTER  XV. 
"  A  Token  of  my  True  Love," 240 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Masters  and  Governors 257 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
Mr.  Murray's  Card-Houses  Tumble  Down,     .       .    275 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Between  Life  and  Death,  292 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
June  Sunshine, 309 

CHAPTER  XX. 
Mr.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses,         .       .       .325 


THE  CAPTAIN'S  BARGAIN. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   captain's    INDISCRETION. 

"  Another  glass,  Captain  ?  " 

"  No,  not  another,  thank  you,  Mr.  Combe." 

"  What,  not  another?  Isn't  the  liquor  good  ? 
Shall  I  mix  you  a  julep  now,  or  something  hot, 
with  lemon,  eh  ?  " 

"  No — no  more,"  said  Captain  Allen,  eying 
the  tall  bottle  with  desire.  "  The  fact  is,  Mr. 
Combe,  I  promised  my  wife — and  she  is  a 
woman-with-a-head-on-her-shoulders  —  that  I 
wouldn't  touch  above  one  glass  before  I  sold 
that  lumber  ;  and  what  'Zekiel  Allen  says  he 
sticks  to,  sure." 

"  Oh,  but  seems  to  me  Mrs.  Allen  may  be 
drawing  the  reins  rather  tight — eh,  Captain  ? " 

"  None  too  tight,  after  all,"  said  the  Captain 
with  a  laugh.  "  She  knows  that  if  I  had  over 
one  glass,  I'd  as  like  as  not  give  the  lumber 

(7) 


8  The  Captains  Bargain, 

away,  or  sell  it  for  less  than  the  trees  cost  me 
standing.  I'm  free,  Mr.  Combe,  very  free,  after 
two  glasses." 

If  one  might  read  the  little  drop  of  Mr. 
Combe's  shoulders  and  of  the  corners  of  his 
mouth,  possibly  he  had  known  that  little  pe- 
culiarity in  Captain  Allen,  and  had  considered 
a  few  glasses  of  Old  Rye  a  good  investment  as 
he  bargained  with  him.  But  now  Captain  Al- 
len, having  refreshed  his  mind  with  his  promise 
to  his  "'Liza,"  said  briskly:  "And  so,  Mr. 
Combe,  will  you  have  the  lumber  or  shall  I  go 
round  to  Jenkins  before  train-time  ? " 

"Oh,  I'll  have  the  lumber,"  said  Mr.  Combe, 
knowing  that  Jenkins,  the  rival  builder,  was 
now  out  on  the  street  looking  for  the  Captain. 

"  At  the  price  laid  down  there  ? "  said  the 
Captain,  pushing  a  long  bill  of  various  items 
toward  Mr.  Combe.  "  No  beating  down.  You 
take  it  all?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Combe.  "  Delivered  at 
once." 

"  I'll  begin  sending  it  down  to-morrow  by 
six,"  said  the  Captain  joyfully,  now  feeling  the 
exhilaration  of  the  builder's  grog  ;  "  or  at  five, 
or  at  four,  if  you  say  so.  Come  up  at  three  in 
the  morning  if  you  like." 

"  Pshaw !  I  can't  get  there  before  the  train, 


The  Captains  Indiscretion.  9 

Captain,"  said  Mr.  Combe ;  and,  with  the  fear 
of  Jenkins  before  his  eyes,  he  wrote  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  long  lumber  bill,  "  Bought  by  Sam'l 
Combe."     "There  now!" 

*'  All  right,"  said  the  Captain,  folding  the 
document  and  putting  it  into  his  pocket.  "  And 
now  I  will  have  another  glass." 

Mr.  Combe  poured  out  a  second  glass  and 
put  sugar  therein.  Then  he  prudently  locked 
up  the  bottle  in  the  closet.  Why  waste  Ja- 
maica when  the  bargain  was  made  ? 

As  Captain  Allen  sipped  his  liquor  with  evi- 
dent keen  relish,  Mr.  Combe  said  : 

"  Since  your  wife  is  so  sharp  about  getting  a 
promise  as  to  how  many  glasses  you  will  take,  I 
wonder  she  does  not  try  to  make  you  swear  off 
altogether." 

"  She  does — she  does,"  said  the  Captain,  shak- 
ing his  big  head.  "  But,  you  see,  I  won't  do  it. 
I  know  too  well  what  it  would  cost  me.  What- 
ever 'Zekiel  Allen  promises  that  he  sticks  to,  if 
it  kills  him.  Ask  the  count3%  they'll  say  Cap- 
tain Allen  is  a  man  of  his  word.  And  I  won't 
give  my  word  for  tee-total,  because  I  like  a 
good  glass  now  and  then  first-rate.  There  ; 
I'm  sorry  that  one's  finished — not  that  I  am  or 
ever  mean  to  be  a  drunkard.  I  think  too  much 
of  'Liza  and  the  children  for  that.     It's  on  their 


lo  The  Captains  Bargain. 

account  I  made  the  promise  about  not  drinking 
over  one  glass  before  the  bargain  is  finished. 
But  I'll  not  swear  total  abstainer.  Oh,  no  ! 
And,  Mr.  Combe,  if  you  like,  you  can  bring  up 
the  rest  of  that  bottle  to-morrow,  and  we'll 
drink  to  our  good  luck  when  the  last  of  the 
sticks  are  sent  off." 

Combe  laughed.  "  All  right ;  perhaps  after 
a  glass  or  two  you'll  throw  me  in  an  odd  hun- 
dred or  so  of  scantling." 

"  You  needn't  build  on  that,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain honestly  ;  "  for  'Liza'll  be  there.  Oh,  she 
is  a  woman  for  trade  !  She  made  out  that  bill. 
She  measures  all  the  lumber.  She  used  to  be 
a  school-ma'am.  Oh,  she  \s  a  woman-with-a- 
head  !  I  don't  know  just  how  she  does  it,  Mr. 
Combe.  I  never  could  measure  lumber  myself ; 
but  she — she  just  runs  the  rule  here  and  there, 
and  then — then  she  multiplies !  Or  is  it  that 
she  divides  ?  No  ;  she — she  adds  !  I  vow  I 
can't  tell  which  it  is — but  she  gets  it  right ! " 

Mr.  Combe  laughed  again  as  he  opened  the 
door.  The  Jamaica  was  telling  on  the  Captain, 
but  too  late  to  do  his  entertainer  any  good. 

Captain  Allen  was  very  easily  affected  by 
liquor.  His  intoxication  was  always  speedy, 
brief,  and  of  three  stages.  He  was  in  the  first 
stage  now — the  stage  of  exhilaration.     In  that 


The  Captain  s  hidiscretion.  1 1 

stage  it  would  be  very  hard  to  persuade  the 
Captain  that  he  had  not  a  million  or  its  equiva- 
lents in  either  pocket.  It  would  be  equally 
hard  to  persuade  him  that  it  was  not  his  mission 
to  lavish  of  his  abundance  on  all  his  fellows. 
Given  two  glasses,  Captain  Allen  was  a  new 
Don  Quixote ;  every  broken-down  steed  was  to 
him  a  full-blooded  charger;  every  windmill  a 
giant ;  every  village  maid  a  Dulcinea  to  be  de- 
fended. He  was  now  in  what  the  French  call 
the  state  glorieux  ;  he  forgot  that  he  trod  the 
earth,  and  he  marched  with  his  head  in  the 
clouds.  Had  not  his  poverty  and  the  prudence' 
of  'Liza  combined  to  keep  his  pockets  empty, 
Captain  Allen  would  have  scattered  his  earnings 
right  and  left  in  such  phases  of  feeling  as  the 
present. 

Now  he  took  the  road  to  the  railroad  station. 
About  him,  in  the  waning  light  of  the  early 
April  afternoon,  were  the  skeletons  or  half-cov- 
ered frames  of  various  houses  rising  under  the 
supervision  of  Combe  or  the  rival  Jenkins.  For 
this  little  town  of  Lacy  was  coming  up  on  a 
sudden  boom.  These  houses  which  the  work- 
men were  leaving  for  the  night,  aided  the  glow- 
ing fantasies  of  Captain  Allen's  brain.  "  If 
they'd  only  build  a  thousand  houses,  and  I  could 
get  out  the  lumber  for  all  of  them — ha !  ha  1 


12  The  Captains  Bargain. 

I'd  be  rich  as  Jay  Gould  in  no  time.  Ho  !  ho  ! 
I'm  no  fool !  What  will  'Liza  say  when  she  sees 
this  !  "  and  he  slapped  the  pocket  where  the  bill 
of  lumber  rustled.  "  Sold  !  Sold  to  the  first 
;nan  !  Sold  at  the  full  price  !  If  I  go  on  like 
that  I  can  pay  off  the  mortgage  on  the  old  mill 
and  build  me  a  house,  and  buy  'Liza  a  silk  gown 
and  little  Bop  a  watch  when  he  is  twenty -one  !  " 

Thus,  emulating  the  "  Maid  with  the  Pail  of 
Milk"  and  the  "Glass  Seller  of  Bagdad,"  Cap- 
lain  Allen  strode  toward  the  station,  just  at  the 
edge  of  the  little  town.  But  before  he  reached 
t'ae  station,  he  saw  on  the  roadside  an  excited 
group,  mostly  women,  and  their  exclamations 
and  questions  mingled  with  the  wild  crying  of 
a  child. 

Captain  Allen  was  a  man  extravagantly  fond  of 
children,  and,  moreover,  he  was  now  in  his  state 
of  "  Redresser  General  of  all  Grievances";  he 
elbowed  his  way  into  the  crowd.  Sitting  on  a 
boulder  was  a  hatless,  shoeless,  dirty,  ragged,  and 
very  small  child.  He  was  crying  stormil)^  furi- 
ously ;  as  a  child  cries  after  long  and  painful  re- 
pression, after  long  terror  and  endurance,  when 
at  last  all  barriers  and  restraints  have  given  way, 
and  it  yields  completely  to  the  force  of  its  woe. 

**  Poor  little  thing  ! "  cried  a  woman,  shrilly  ; 
"  no  wonder  he  cries.     There  he  sat  whenever 


The  Captains  Indiscretion.  13 

I  opened  my  door  this  morning — still  as  a  stone. 
After  an  hour  or  so,  I  went  and  spoke  to  him. 
He  said  his  mammy  had  left  him  there,  and 
told  him  to  wait.  I  took  him  some  bread  and 
milk,  and  again  I  took  him  some  cake ;  and  he 
slept  a  bit.  And  there  he's  sat  the  blessed  day, 
afraid  to  move,  waiting  for  the  wretched  v<jman, 
whoever  she  is,  to  come  back." 

"  She  won't  come.  Never  fear.  She's  de- 
serted him.  She's  been  cute  enough  to  get  the 
day's  start  and  go  by,  before  folks  were  v^p  to 
see  her,  the  brute  !  " 

"  Don't  cry,  my  little  man,"  said  an  old  grand- 
mother, "  tell  us  your  name.  What's  your  nar^^, 
dear  ? " 

"  Wobbie." 

"  Oh,  Robbie.     And  where  do  you  live?" 

"Nowhere!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do.  Where  did  you  come  from, 
tell  us?" 

"  F'om  nowhere,"  sobbed  the  child,  breaking 
forth  into  renewed  wails. 

"  There,  he  knows  nothing,  or  he  is  so  scared 
he  has  forgotten  all  he  knows.  Well,  what's  to 
be  done  with  him  ?  He  can't  sit  here  all  night. 
It's  going  to  rain,  too.  Can't  you  take  him  in, 
Mrs.  Moss?" 

"  Me  take  him   in  ! "  said  Mrs.  Moss,  who 


14        •        The  Captains  Bargain. 

evidently  had  not  "  been  a  schoolma'am,"  like 
'Liza.  "And  if  there  is  one  thing  Absalom 
hates,  it  is  the  noise  of  a  child  ! " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  her  neighbors,  "  she  can't," 
for  the  vile  temper  of  her  Absalom  was  well 
known,  but  condoned,  as  for  ten  years  he  had 
been  paralyzed  from  a  railroad  accident. 

"  Couldn't  you  see  to  him  a  bit,  Mrs.  Mooney  ?  " 

"The  Saints  forbid!"  cried  Mrs.  Mooney. 
"  I've  raised  eight,  and  now  I  live  with  my 
daughter  and  she  has  six,  and  they're  more  than 
she  can  handle,  sure." 

"  That's  true,"  said  a  big  matron.  "  Every- 
body has  got  more  than  they  can  do  for,  of  chil- 
dren. I  wonder  that  they  will  keep  coming 
when  there's  no  room  for  'em."  And  she  eyed 
the  weeping  "  Wobbie"  with  reprobation,  as  a 
sample  of  that  legion  of  children  which  will  in- 
sist on  crowding  into  an  over-peopled  world. 

"  Perhaps  his  mother  will  come  back  for  him, 
after  all." 

"  Not  she,"  cried  the  chorus.  "  She's  deserted 
him,  the  tramp  ! " 

"  Mr,  Beasely,  don't  you  want  him, — you've 
not  chick  or  child  ?" 

"'No;  and  no  one  to  mend  my  own  stock- 
ings, let  alone  his,"  quoth  Mr.  Beasely,  who  was 
a  bachelor. 


The  Captains  Indiscretion.  15 

"What's  the  row?"  demanded  Luke  Martin, 
the  sole  policeman  of  the  place,  who  had  been 
summoned. 

The  women  explained  vociferously. 

"Well,  I  suppose  I  must  take  him  to  the  sta- 
tion-house " — thus  designating  a  ten-by-twelve 
room  behind  the  post-office — "and  in  the  morn- 
ing, if  he's  not  called  for,  hand  him  over  to  the 
poormaster." 

"  You've  no  right  to  hand  him  over  to  the 
poormaster,"  said  a  hard-faced  man.  "  Why 
should  our  county  be  burdened  with  the  like  of 
him  ?  If  you  take  in  all  the  strays  that  are  left 
here,  we'll  soon  have  to  pay  fifty  cents  tax  on 
the  dollar.  He's  not  our  poor.  Send  him  where 
he  came  from." 

"  But  we  don't  know  where  he  came  from." 

"  You've  no  right  to  burden  our  county,  I 
say ! 

"  Oh,  Sam  Hastings  !  Burden  !  One  little 
bit  of  a  boy  ! " 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Moss.  Burden  !  It's  a  prece- 
dent. We  don't  want  no  such  precedents.  Our 
taxes  is  heavy  enough  now,  and  too  heavy." 

"  Arrah,  you  don't  pay  any  of  'em,"  said  Mrs. 
Mooney. 

Meanwhile  the  child  had  stopped  crying — 
stopped  from  exhaustion,  and  to  take  breath. 


1 6  ^      The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Come  on,  sonny,"  said  the  big  constable, 
"  you  can't  sit  here." 

But  the  child  was  frightened  nearly  into  con- 
vulsions at  the  touch  of  this  big,  bluff  man 
with  the  thick  stick.  He  burst  into  renewed 
shrieks,  and  clung  to  the  petticoat  of  the  near- 
est woman. 

"  Can't  some  of  you  quiet  him  a  little  ?"  said 
the  poor  constable.  "  I  don't  want  to  drag 
him  off  yelling  like  that.  People  will  think 
I'm  trying  to  cut  his  throat." 

The  child  seemed  to  regard  this  as  a  threat. 
He  redoubled  his  shrieks.  While  the  women 
said,  "  There,  there  ;  don't,  my  dear  ;  don't  take 
on  so."  "  He  won't  hurt  you."  "Go  with  the 
nice  man."  "  He'll  give  you  a  candy,  sonny." 
"  Here,  dear,  hush  ;  here  is  a  penny  for  you." 
"There's  a  good  boy." 

Another  lull ;  but  for  breath,  not  because 
comforted. 

"  Well,"  said  the  reluctant  constable,  "  the 
poorhouse  is  the  only  place,  since  none  of  you 
wants  him." 

"  I  want  him." 

It  was  Captain  'Zekiel. 

He  pushed  near  the  child  and  got  down  on 
his  knees.  He  wiped  the  tear-drenched  face 
with  his  big  bandanna.     He  wooed  the  child 


The  Captains  Indiscretion.  17 

with  soft  words.  "  There,  my  little  man  !  Cap'n 
Allen  likes  little  boys.  Come  with  me,  and  you 
shall  have  some  pie  and  a  bird  and  a  pussy  cat, 
and  a  baby  to  play  with  !  'Zekiel  Allen  won't 
see  a  little  chap  sent  to  the  poorhouse." 

'•  Oh,  the  good  man  !  "  "  Aye,  that's  right  ! " 
"  Heaven  be  your  bed  !  "  "  The  Lord  will  re- 
ward you  !  "  "  Take  him  !  "  Thus  "  the  chorus 
of  the  women." 

"  Do  you  mean  you'll  take  the  child,  mister  ? 
I  don't  remember  your " 

"  Oh,  it's  Captain  Allen  from  Lai's  Moun- 
tain," cried  Mrs.  Mooney.  "We  know  him — 
Captain  'Zekiel." 

"And  you  really  mean  to  take  the  child?" 
said  the  constable. 

"  Certain,  why  not  ?  I've  got  a  mill  up  near 
the  mountain,  and  I  can  sell  my  lumber  for  any 
price  I  name.  I've  got  a  wife  with-a-head-on- 
her-shoulders,  and  I've  got  two  youngsters,  and 
I'm  not  one  of  those  to  say  there's  too  many 
children  in  the  world.  I  like  children.  I'd  as 
lief  do  for  a  hundred  !  Give  me  the  little  chap, 
I'll  make  a  man  of  him.  I'll  make  him  Gov'nor 
or  President,  or  a  barge  captain,  or — or  some- 
thing!" 

The  lost  infant,  standing  very  short  and  small 
beside  Captain  'Zekiel's  six   feet  four  inches, 


1 8  The  Captains  Bargain, 

locked  one  small  hand  tight  in  the  big  palm  of  his 
protector,  and  with  the  other  gripped  fast  hold 
of  the  baggy  knee  of  the  Captain's  trousers. 

"  I'll  just  take  down  your  name  and  address, 
so  I  can  send  to  you  in  case  the  mother  comes 
back,"  said  the  relieved  constable,  taking  out  a 
note-book. 

"  She  won't  come  !  "  "  Never  hear  of  her 
again  !  "  "  So  much  the  better  ! "  "  The  boy's 
in  luck!"  "Oh,  the  good  man!"  "That's 
what  it  is  to  be  generous!"  "Oh,  the  kind 
heart ! "  Amid  this  chant  the  crowd  broke  up, 
and  Captain  'Zekiel  and  his  waif  marched  hur- 
riedly to  the  station.  There  was  only  one 
grimy  little  car  to  the  engine.  The  distance  to 
be  travelled  was  only  ten  miles.  One  passen- 
ger, one  smoky  lamp,  a  conductor  who  was  also 
brakeman  —  nightfall !  These  were  Captain 
'Zekiel's  surroundings.  The  admiring  crowd 
had  fallen  away  from  him  ;  the  inspiring  "  cho- 
rus of  the  women  "  no  longer  rung  in  his  ears. 
And  the  mental  barometer  of  Captain  'Zekiel 
was  falling  very  fast.  His  drunkenness  had  al- 
ways three  stages — the  second  stage  was  sure  to 
be  one  of  timidity,  anxiety,  apprehension.  Into 
this  second  stage  he  was  now  drifting  out  of 
his  brief  period  of  glory  and  self-sufficiency. 
He  was  going  home — to  a  very  poor  home — to 


The  Captains  Indiscretion.  19 

a  wife  and  two  children  ;  and  the  woman-with- 
a-head-on-her-shoulders  might  make  serious  ob- 
jections to  having  a  new  child  cast  upon  her 
cares.  It  was  borne  in  on  the  Captain's  failing 
heart  that  he  had  reckoned  without  his  hostess. 
What  should  he  do — what  should  he  do  ?  How 
could  he  encounter  the  redoubtable  'Liza? 
What  was  likely  to  occur  he  knew  well — for 
this  was  not  the  first  time  the  Captain  had  been 
guilty  of  such  an  indiscretion. 

Lower,  lower,  lower  sank  the  Captain's  feel- 
ings ;  down,  down,  down  into  the  very  depths 
went  the  lately  jubilant,  boastful  Captain. 

And  the  car  stopped.  He  must  walk  a  mile 
to  reach  home.  The  rain  was  falling.  The 
night  had  come.  The  mountain  road  was  rutty 
and  muddy.  How  this  poor  uncomplaining 
mite,  clinging  to  his  hand,  lagged  and  stumbled 
and  dragged  !  At  last  the  child's  feet  merely 
slid  along  the  way  as  the  remorseful  Captain 
pulled  him  forward.  Then  Captain  'Zekiel 
picked  him  up  to  his  broad  breast,  and  the  little 
*  fellow  locked  a  pair  of  confiding  arms  around 
the  man's  horny  neck,  and  clung  to  him  for 
shelter  from  the  storm..  The  Captain  somehow 
revived  a  little  at  that  clasp. 

Home  !  The  Captain  lived  in  two  rooms  at 
the  bottom  of  the  rickety  old  mill.     The  light 


20  The  Captains  Bargain. 

shone  from  the  uncurtained  window.  'Liza  was 
frying  ham  for  tea.  The  Captain  put  the  boy 
down,  opened  the  door,  and  as  'Liza,  engrossed 
with  her  cooking,  did  not  turn  round,  he  poli- 
ticly addressed  her  on  a  pleasing  theme. 

"  'Liza,  I  sold  the  lumber — the  hull  bill  of  it 
— for  just  the  price  you  set,  'Liza — just  the  price. 
It's  to  go  down  to-morrow,  'Liza." 

•'  All  right,"  said  the  household  priestess,  bent 
over  her  tripod,  and  pursuing  her  incantations 
with  the  dredging-box.  The  smoke  of  the  ham, 
the  steam  of  the  tea-kettle  rose  up  about  her. 
She  was  a  small,  dark,  middle-aged  woman. 

"  Your  tea  smells  dreadful  good,  'Liza " 

"  What  a  nice  place  it  am  ! "  piped  the  waif  from 
behind  the  sheltering  legs  of  the  colossal  Captain. 

"What's  that?"  cried  Mrs.  'Liza. 

It  was  not  Bop,  the  infant  son  of  the  home  ; 
he  slept.  It  was  not  Pink  ;  she  had  for  an  hour 
been  hanging  to  the  maternal  skirts,  "  cross 
enough  to  kill,"  as  Mrs.  'Liza  said.  That  voice 
of  silvery  satisfaction !  Mrs.  'Liza  whirled 
about.  Looking  around  the  Captain's  left  leg 
— lo !  a  pair  of  big  brown  eyes  in  a  very  dirty 
face,  a  mop  of  very  tangled  brown  curls,  a  slim, 
eager,  shrinking,  tiny,  ragged  figure. 

♦'  What's  that  ?  "  demanded  the  Pythoness. 

"  It's — a  little — a  boy — I  picked  up,"  faltered 


The  Captains  Indiscretion.  21 

the  Captain,  and  he  passed  instanter  into  the 
third  stage  of  his  drunkenness — remorse.  In 
this  stage  he  was  always  burdened  with  remorse, 
liist  for  having  ever  been  born,  and  then  for 
everything  he  had  ever  done  since  he  was  born. 

"  A  boy  you  picked  up  !  'Zekiel  Allen  !  Have 
you  done  that  again?  'Zekiel,  you've  been 
drinking ! " 

The  Captain  took  a  chair  in  a  corner. 

•'  I  won't  keep  him,  mind  !  Carry  him  straight 
back  where  you  got  him  from.  That's  my  kst 
word." 

The  Captain  hid  his  face  in  his  hands.  He 
must  take  him  back !  The  poor,  dear  little 
boy  !  Consign  the  forlorn  babe  to  the  horrors 
of  a  county  poorhouse !  And  he  had  promised 
to  keep  him.  He  had  boasted.  He  had  been 
praised  by  all  the  women.  And  he  must  go 
back  to  the  constable  and  say,  "  My  wife  won't 
let  me  keep  him."  Oh  dear,  oh  dear !  And 
yet,  the  Captain  had  a  sense  of  justice.  Not 
he,  but  'Liza  must  cook,  make,  wash,  mend,  toil 
for  this  waif  if  he  stayed.  And  if  she  wouldn't, 
well — she  wouldn't.     The  Captain  groaned. 

"  Take  him  away,  I  tell  you  ! "  cried  the  angry 
'Liza,  brandishino^  the  long  meat-fork,  and  ad- 
vancing on  the  cowed  Captain.  "  As  if  I 
hadn't  enough  on  my  hands !     And  we  as  poor 


22  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

as  Job's  turkey,  and  may  have  a  dozen  of  our 
own  ;  who  knows !     Take  him  off  ! " 

"Yes,  'Liza,"  said  the  Captain,  "yes,  only 
• — there  isn't  another  train  to-night,  you  know. 
And  it's  raining,  'Liza,  and  it's  seven  o'clock, 
and — oh  dear " 

"  I  suppose  he's  got  to  stay  all  night,"  said 
'Liza,  wrathfully  ;  "  but  in  the  morning  he  goes 
packing.  I'd  like  to  know  if  we've  got  to  take 
in  every  stray  dog,  and  cat,  and  boy  that  you 
cast  your  eye  on,  'Zekiel  Allen  ?  I  never  saw 
such  a  man  in  all  my  born  days !  One  never 
knows  what  you'll  do,  when  you've  been  drink- 
ing. Poor  as  we  are,  too  !  To-morrow  morn- 
ing, bright  and  early,  'Zekiel.  mind." 

"  Yes,  'Liza,"  said  'Zekiel,  meekly. 
^^^^JVIeanwhile  the  child,  drawn  by  the  fragrance 
■  of  the  food  and  the  delicious  warmth  of  the 
stove,  had  made  cautious  advances  into  the 
room,  and,  with  a  prudence  beyond  his  years, 
had  obliterated  himself,  so  far  as  possible,  be- 
hind the  stove.  His  big  brown  eyes  gazed  upon 
the  Captain  and  the  irate  'Liza.  Did  he  under- 
stand the  sentence  pronounced  against  him  ? 
Mistress  Allen  whisked  tea,  potatoes,  and  ham 
upon  the  board.  "  Well,  come  to  supper  ;  come 
along,  you  boy  !  We  can  give  you  a  meal,  I  sup- 
pose.   'Zekiel  Allen,  you  have  made  a  bargain  ! " 


CHAPTER  II. 

rO    GO,  OR  NOT    TO  GO  :    THAT  IS    THE  QUESTION. 

Mistress  'Liza  put  Pink  into  a  higii-chair, 
placed  iier  at  the  table,  and  tied  a  bib  under  her 
chin.  All  'Liza's  motions  were  quick  and  nerv- 
ous ;  now  their  energy  was  intensified  by  wrath. 
She  bounced  the  waif  into  another  high-chair, 
and  tied  a  bib  under  his  chin.  Surely  this  was 
not  out  of  deference  to  his  dirty  clothes.  Prob- 
ably it  was  out  of  deference  to  her  own  feel- 
ings, and  her  table-cloth. 

The  door  opened  and  a  boy,  who  made  an 
amazing  amount  of  noise  in  walking,  came  in 
and  sat  down  by  Captain  'Zekiel,  at  the  end  of 
the  table.  The  Captain's  remorse  continued  ; 
indeed,  it  deepened.  He  repented  of  every 
mouthful  of  food,  even  as  he  ate  it. 

Pink,  mollified  by  the  sight  of  supper,  leaned 
across  the  table-corner  which  separated  her  from 
her  little  guest,  set  her  small  white  teeth  to- 
gether, and  opening  her  red  lips  in  a  grin, 
exhibited,  as  with  pride,  the  double,  gleaming 
row.  The  boy  smiled  at  her  benignly.  Why 
should  he  not  smile  ?     Mrs.  'Liza  had  heaped 

(23) 


24  The  Captains  Bargain. 

his  plate  liberally  with  potatoes  and  gravy. 
Presently  Pink  filled  a  spoon  from  her  own 
plate,  and,  leaning  over,  thrust  it  into  the  stran- 
ger's mouth.  This  was  hospitality.  Then,  in- 
stantly, the  changeful  maid  lifted  herself  in  her 
chair,  and  gave  "  Wobbie  "  a  resounding  whack 
on  the  head.  He  winked  back  the  tears  like 
a  little  hero,  and  only  nodded  at  her.  What 
was  a  blow  with  a  pewter  spoon,  to  a  boy  eat- 
ing all  he  wanted  of  hot  potatoes  ?  Then  Pink, 
applying  herself  to  her  little  mug  of  milk, 
drained  it  to  the  last  drop,  and  burst  into  a  loud 
wail  for  more.  At  once  the  little  visitor  held 
out  his  own  mug  to  her  with  both  his  small, 
grimy  hands  saying,  "  Tate  mine."  Pink,  un- 
hesitant,  took  it  all.  It  was  freely  given.  Never 
until  now  had  the  boy  had  before  him,  at  one 
meal,  me^t  and  potatoes,  gravy,  bread,  butter, 
and  milk.  He  could  spare  the  milk.  Supper 
over,  the  Captain  and  the  noisily-walking  boy 
took  a  lantern  and  went  out.  "  Wobbie  "  again 
shrunk  behind  the  stove.  He  had  a  vague  feel- 
ing that  if  Mrs.  'Liza  saw  too  much  of  him  she 
might  put  him  out  in  the  rain.  Heretofore 
weather  had  never  offered  any  restraint  to  those 
who  wished  to  thrust  him  out  of  doors. 

The  house-mother  undressed    Pink  and  put 
her  to  bed  in  the  next  room.     It  looked  a  won- 


To  Go,  or  not  to  Go.  25 

derful  room  to  Robbie.  It  had  a  bed,  a  crib, 
and  a  trundle-bed,  all  of  home  manufacture ; 
two  great,  bright,  braided  mats  on  the  floor 
white  curtains  at  the  window  ;  two  or  three  gay 
prints  on  the  wall,  and  a  little  table  with  a  red 
cover.     What  a  paradise  ! 

Madame  'Liza  next  washed  her  tea-dishes,  set 
bread-sponge,  and  made  her  kitchen  tidy.  Mean- 
w^hile  the  Captain  returned  and  again  sat  deso- 
late in  the  corner.  Then  Mrs.  'Liza  took  a 
little  tin  tub,  put  plenty  of  hot  water  therein, 
laid  a  sponge,  a  crash  towel,  a  square  of  brown 
soap,  and  a  bottle  of  ammonia  on  a  chair,  and, 
reaching  in  behind  the  stove  for  Robbie,  said, 
**  Now  I'll  make  you  clean  if  you're  going  to 
sleep  in  my  trundle-bed." 

She  stripped  off  his  one  garment,  a  gray 
flannel  "  confection "  of  pants  and"  waist,  and 
plumped  him  into  the  tub  of  water.  Whatever 
this  dame  did  she  did  thoroughly,  especially  in 
the  cleaning  line.  She  administered  soap  and 
ammonia  with  an  unsparing  hand;  she  rubbed, 
she  scoured,  she  rinsed,  she  polished  with  the 
crash  towel.  The  soap-suds  went  into  Robbie's 
eyes,  mouth,  and  ears.  Well,  what  if  it  did  ? 
He  set  his  lips  together,  squeezed  his  eyelids 
tight  shut,  held  his  breath,  and  let  her  scrub. 
The  water  was  lovely  warm,  the  soapy  sponge 


26  The  Captains  Bargaifi. 

was  soft ;  unconsciously  to  himself  something 
in  his  nature  seemed  responsive  to  this  cleansing 
process.  As  Mrs.  'Liza  scoured  away  the  grime, 
the  short  hazy  horror  of  his  past  seemed  to  fall 
away  from  him,  and  he  was  a  new  boy  in  a  new 
world. 

"There!  Now  for  your  head!"  said  Mrs. 
'Liza. 

She  stood  him  up  in  the  tub,  braced  against 
her  knees.  The  little  man  vaguely  felt  as  if  his 
head  had  already  had  a  full  share  of  the  scour- 
ing, but  he  uttered  no  remonstrance.  Ammonia 
made  his  scalp  burn,  his  eyes  rain  silent  tears, 
his  breath  vanish  utterly — and  then  the  combs  ! 
A  remorseless  coarse  comb,  a  tenfold  remorse- 
less fine  comb  !  Mrs,  'Liza  seemed  to  forget 
that  his  head  was  any  more  sensitive  than  a 
croquet-ball.  She  combed  up,  down,  forward, 
backward,  sidewise.  Her  victim  was  dumb  as 
an  Indian  suffering  torture.  He  shut  his  eyes 
tight,  doubled  up  his  little  fists  into  two  red 
balls,  thrust  his  elbows  in  admonitory  fashion 
into  his  own  ribs,  and — let  her  comb.  Had  he 
been  learned  in  Latin  he  might  have  said  to 
himself,  "  O  passi  graviora  !  Deus  dabit  finem, 
his  malis  quoque."  As  it  was,  no  doubt  he  re- 
flected that  no  amount  of  combing  was  so  bad 
as  to  be  seized  ruthlessly  by  a  handful  of  curls, 


To  Go,  or  not  to  Go.  27 

and  have  your  head  knocked  against  the  wall ; 
or  to  be  given  a  fling  and  sent  reeling  across  a 
room  to  hit  your  head  on  the  edge  of  a  table, 
and  raise  a  big  lump  to  last  for  a  week  ;  nor  was 
standing  to  be  combed  half  as  bad  as  to  cower 
shivering  and  trembling  under  a  bed  and  watch 
a  drunken  man  and  a  drunken  woman  throwing 
bottles,  tongs,  coals,  or  chairs  at  each  other.  All 
these  had  been  of  the  varied  experiences  of 
"  Wobbie's  "  brief  sojourn  here  below.  What, 
he  and  we  ask,  was  the  most  vigorous  combing 
in  comparison  ?  Besides,  there  was  the  stove — 
a  beautiful  shining  stove,  with  the  fire  twinkling 
through  two  isinglass  doors.  A  stove  all  warm 
and  clean  was  more  than  a  treat  to  a  little  man 
in  April  who  had  been  uninterruptedly  cold  since 
last  October.  Robbie  basked  before  the  stove. 
It  is  true  he  might  have  baked  as  well  as  basked 
but  for  the  happy  accident  that  Dame  'Liza 
turned  him  round  now  and  again  in  the  exigen- 
cies of  combing. 

Finally  :  "  Now  you're  clean  ! "  said  Mrs. 
'Liza.  She  lifted  him  to  her  lap,  wiped  his 
feet,  and  stood  him  on  the  floor  before  her. 
The  heat,  the  scrubbing,  the  rubbing,  had  made 
all  his  little  naked  body  pink  as  a  rose  from  head 
to  heel.  His  clean  wet  hair,  after  the  last  passage 
through  it  of  the  comb,  had  divided  into  great 


28  The  Captams  Bargain.  , 

dark  curls  that  fell  over  his  shoulders.  He  looked 
tranquilly  at  his  genius,  with  large,  brown,  stead- 
fast, sleepy  eyes.     He  was  cherubic. 

Mrs.  'Liza  went  to  a  blue  chest,  and  took  out 
a  new  garment  of  unbleached  cotton.  "  I  made 
it,"  she  said,  addressing  herself  to  the  room  in 
general — "  for  Pink,  with  allowances  for  grow- 
ing— I  didn't  think  a  little  beggar  would  get 
the  first  wear  of  it."  Then  she  dropped  the 
garment  over  his  head,  pulled  his  arms  into  the 
sleeves,  and  buttoned  it  about  his  neck.  The 
little  beggar  in  this  straight  white  array,  was 
more  angelic  than  ever.  It  is  written  of  old, 
"  Some  have  entertained  angels  unawares." 
Then  Mrs.  'Liza  led  her  beggar  to  the  bedroom, 
his  little  feet  pattering  obediently  in  time  with 
her  own  hasty  tread.  As  Bop  had  pre-emption 
rights  to  the  front  of  the  trundle-bed,  she  lifted 
the  beggar  in  behind  him.  Bop,  feeling  some- 
thing warm  and  soft  slipping  in  beside  him, 
asserted  his  ownership,  by  kicking  out  a  fat  leg, 
and  driving  his  bed-fellow  well  against  the  wall, 
then  turning  on  his  back  and  striking  a  fat  fist 
into  Robbie's  eye.  But  what  did  that  matter  ? 
Robbie's  eyes  were  already  closing.  What  were 
a  few  kicks  and  punches  compared  to  a  delicious, 
clean,  soft,  warm  bed  ?  A  wonderful  feeling  of 
general  well-being  made  up  of  cleanness,  warm- 


To  Go,  or  not  to  Go.  29 

ness,  softness,  satiety,  absorbed  him.  Sweet 
dreams  came  tiironging  to  bear  him  away  into 
slumber-land. 

Mrs.  'Liza,  a  fond  mother,  bent  to  kiss  the 
red  head  of  Captain  'Zekiel's  youngest  image. 
Was  it  only  one  of  Robbie's  dreams,  that  for 
the  first  time  in  his  experience  a  hand  lingered 
for  an  instant  in  maternal  touch  on  his  head  ? 

Mrs.  'Liza  went  back  to  her  kitchen.  She 
poured  more  hot  water  into  the  little  tub,  washed 
the  waif's  forlorn  suit,  and  hung  it  close  to  the 
fire  to  dry.  Then,  without  a  word  to  her  Cap- 
tain, she  sat  down  to  darn  stockings. 

Meanwhile  the  Captain  was  watching  all  these 
proceedings  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye.  There 
had  been  similar  scenes  once  before. 

The  last  stage  of  his  intoxication  had  passed  ; 
'Zekiel  was  himself  again.  He  had  expected 
not  merely  a  domestic  storm,  but  a  tornado  of 
the  fiercest  description.  It  had  been  violent, 
but  brief,  and  its  last  forces  had  been  spent  in 
combing  that  curly  head.  The  Captain  seeing  the 
stray  infant's  heroic  conduct  while  being  washed 
and  combed,  his  genial  manners  to  Pink,  and 
his  wisdom  in  hiding  behind  the  stove,  had  told 
himself  that  "the  boy  was  a  reg'lar  little  brick." 
And  then,  how  beautiful  he  was  !  Even  dot- 
ing parents  admitted  that  the  Captain's  Bop  was 


30  The  Captains  Bargain. 

homely.  Pink  was  a  pretty  child,  but  of  diabol- 
ical disposition — but  this  boy  !  what  a  straight, 
well-knit  little  figure  !  What  great  brown  eyes, 
what  curls  !  What  a  skin,  like  cream  !  What 
a  smile  !  An  infinite  longing  to  own  him,  filled 
the  soul  of  the  child-loving  Captain  Allen. 
Brought  up  and  living  all  his  life  in  the  wooded 
silence  of  the  mountain-side,  the  Captain  was 
filled  with  that  intense  unspoken  beauty-wor- 
ship which  made  the  herdsmen  and  hunters  of 
ancient  Greece  see  demi-gods,  fauns,  nymphs, 
dryads  in  the  woods  and  streams.  Oh,  this 
beautiful  child,  could  he  yield  him  up  to  the 
desolation  of  the  county  poorhouse,  where  tooth- 
less old  paupers  mumbled,  and  a  stray  idiot  and 
lunatic  or  two,  mouthed  and  gibbered  ?  Could 
he  go  back  to  the  admiring  chorus  of  the  wom- 
en, the  constable,  and  say,  "  Here's  the  boy  ; 
my  wife  won't  have  him"  ?  Yet  Mrs.  'Liza,  by 
virtue  of  that  head-on-her-shoulders,  was  the 
true  head  of  the  house  ;  moreover,  they  were 
very  poor,  and  Mrs.  'Liza  was  very  hard  worked, 
and — well — what  cannot  be  gained  by  fighting, 
may  sometimes  be  gained  by  waiting — so  the 
Captain  went  to  bed. 

By  five  next  morning,  the  Captain  called 
"the  Hands,"  and  a  great  bustle  began,  getting 
out    the    lumber   for   Mr.    Combe.     "  Allen's 


To  Go,  or  7iot  to  Go.  31 

Mill,"  an  ancient,  tumble-down  structure,  with 
a  huge  under-shot  wheel,  stood  on  the  side  of 
a  mountain  stream  never  too  dry  to  drive  the 
saw-mill,  but  now,  full-flushed  with  the  breaking 
up  of  the  mountain  snows  and  the  spring  rains,  a 
wide  swift  creek,  hurrying  into  the  Schuylkill,  and 
capable  of  carrying  down  rafts.  Therefore,  Cap- 
tain 'Zekiel  and  his  "  Hands,"  were  finishing  mak- 
ing rafts  of  stout  bark-covered  logs  for  underpin- 
ning, and  on  these  the  other  lumber  was  to  be 
loaded.  Then  a  tiller  being  rigged,  the  **  Hands" 
and  Mr.  Combe  would  navigate  one  raft  the  nine 
miles  of  waterway  to  Lacy,  and  Captain  'Zekiel 
would  take  down  the  other.  The  Captain  worked 
in  a  fury  of  zeal.  He  meant  to  leave  no  time  for 
'Liza  to  remonstrate  with  him  about  the  stray 
boy,  or  to  repeat  her  orders  to  carry  him  off  on 
the  first  raft.  The  Captain  was  wont  to  pre- 
pare himself  for  unusual  labors  by  a  glass  of  Old 
Rye,  but  this  morning  it  would  not  be  well  to 
recall  to  'Liza,  by  drinking,  his  last  evening's 
indiscretion.  Moreover,  if  there  was  one  thing 
above  another  that  made  that  good  woman 
wrathful,  it  was  to  see  the  Captain  indulging 
in  Old  Rye.  Therefore,  unaided  by  his  usual 
fortifier,  the  big  Captain  worked  like  a  Hercules. 
He  had  no  time  to  eat ;  he  snatched  his  bread 
and  bacon,  and  ate  as  he  rolled  logs  over  the 


32  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

banks  by  mighty  kicks.  Eliza,  with  the  baby 
over  one  arm,  and  the  bill  of  the  lumber  in  her 
right  hand,  came  out  to  see  that  Mr.  Combe  got 
what  he  paid  for,  and  no  more. 

The  Captain  worked.  "  The  Hands"  worked. 
Mr.  Combe  arrived  and  he  worked.  Mrs.  'Liza 
made  coffee  and  brought  it  out  to  them.  The 
great  yellow  boards  were  piled  high  on  the  rafts. 
The  Captain  wrought  prodigies.  He  talked — 
for  'Liza's  benefit.  "  If  you'll  build  three  or 
four  hotels  and  stores  at  Lacy,  and  get  the  lum- 
ber of  me,  Mr.  Combe,  I  think  of  getting  more 
machinery  here  in  the  mill.  My  wife  thinks  if 
we  made  shingles  now — things  are  looking  up 
in  Lacy,  Mr.  Combe,  and  all  over  the  county." 

"  So  they  are.  I  brought  the  Jamaica,  Cap- 
tain ;  will  you  have  a  glass  to  help  you  along  ?  " 

The  Captain's  mouth  watered,  but  there  was 
'Liza  ! 

"  No,  thankee ;  no,  not  any.  'Pears  to  me 
I'm  working  a  leetle  better  without  it." 

Presently  Mrs.  'Liza  went  into  the  house. 
The  Captain  trembled.  Now  she  was  getting 
the  boy  ready  to  go  oif  on  the  raft.  She  came 
out ;  the  Captain  was  passing ;  she  beckoned 
him  to  the  bedroom  window.  All  was  over. 
She  was  about  to  bid  him  carry  off  his  bad 
Bargain.     He  approached  slowly  ;  looked  in  as 


^  To  Go,  or  not  to  Go.  33 

'Liza's  finger  directed.  On  the  pillow  of  the 
trundle-bed  sat  Pink  in  her  night-gown.  In  one 
hand  she  held  a  wooden  horse,  trophy  of  her 
father's  jack-knife ;  in  the  other  a  rag-doll,  tri- 
umph of  her  mother's  needle.  On  his  knees 
before  her — a  veritable  copy  of  the  Reynolds' 
'*  Little  Samuel,"  though  the  Captain  and  'Liza 
did  not  know  it — was  the  boy.  One  arm  held 
securely  a  blue  earthen  bowl  of  bread  and  milk, 
left  on  the  table  for  Pink's  breakfast ;  the  other 
hand  was  busy  conveying  loaded  spoonfuls  of 
this  refreshment  to  Pink's  mouth.  Pink  held 
her  mouth  wide  as  a  young  robin,  and  the  boy, 
neat-handed,  put  the  spoon  safely  within  the 
yawning  rosy  cavity.  Now  and  then  Pink  gra- 
ciously turned  a  spoonful  to  his  mouth.  The 
Captain  and  'Liza  laughed  and  went  away. 
Later  both  children  were  dressed  and  out  play- 
ing. Pink  hurt  her  finger  on  a  board,  and  her 
ready  shriek  arose. 

"Don't  ky,  boy!"  called  out  Robbie's  sil- 
very voice  as  he  ran  up,  holding  his  curly  head 
low.  "  Don't  ky ;  pull  my  hair  if  you  like ; 
then  you'll  laugh." 

Pink  pulled  with  a  will  and  laughed. 

"  Now  you  feel  nice,  boy,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  Ain't  boy — am  gell,"  said  Pink. 

•'  Yes ;  now  you're  glad,  gell,"  said  her  guest 


34  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Then  the  waif  approached  "  the  Hands  "  occu- 
pied in  taking  a  bit  of  luncheon.  Though  spoken 
of  in  the  plural,  "  the  Hands  "  was  but  one,  a  boy 
of  fifteen— not  even  a  whole  boy,  thought  Robbie, 
only  a  piece  of  a  boy.  He  had  only  one  leg. 
A  wooden  leg  of  domestic  make  was  firmly 
strapped  to  the  stump  of  the  missing  left  leg ; 
and,  as  if  to  balance  this  deficiency,  "the 
Hands  "  had  also  lost  his  right  eye.  Probably 
in  courtesy  to  his  having  two  hands,  and  also 
because  every  mill  should  need  and  have  more 
than  one  workman,  the  Captain  spoke  of  his 
fragmentary  coadjutor  as  "  the  Hands." 

Robbie  surveyed  this  boy  with  interest.  "  Is 
you  going  to  work  all  day  ?  " 

"  No ;  I'm  going  down  to  the  town  on  the 
raft." 

"  Did  the  lady  sended  you  away  ?"  asked  Rob- 
bie in  awed  tones. 

"  Oh,  no  ;  I'm  coming  back."  ' 

"  Does  the  lady  let  you  stay  ?" 

"  All  right ;  she  does." 

"  Does  the  lady  like  you  ?" 

"  The  Hands  "  laughed.  Mrs.  'Liza  had  heard. 
She  did  not  like  the  waif  less  for  calling  her 
"  the  lady." 

The  rafts  were  made  and  loaded.  All  was 
ready  for  a  start.     Mrs.  'Liza  and  the  children 


To  Go,  or  not  to  Go.  35 

were  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  Captain  could 
fly  unnoticed,  possibly.  But  that  hardly  seemed 
fair  to  'Liza.  With  reluctant  steps  he  ap- 
proached the  kitchen-door.  His  wife  was  sew- 
ing. Bop  sat  on  the  floor.  "Wobbie"  had 
organized  a  play.  "  Me  an'  you  gell  is  bears. 
We'll  run  at  him  on  our  knees.  We'll  bark  ow, 
ow,  ow,  ow,  only  not  too  loud,  gell,  to  make 
him  ky.  Come  on,  gell — ow,  ow,  ow  ! "  Like 
the  classic  Bottom,  Wobbie  roared  as  gently  as 
any  sucking  dove. 

"'Liza,"  said  the  Captain  faintly,  "we're — 
going — down." 

"All  right,"  said  'Liza,  never  lifting  her 
eyes. 

"  You — you  don't  want  to  send  for  anything, 
'Liza?" 

"  No,"  said  the  dame  calmly. 

"  I'll— 'Liza— I'll  get  back  by— seven." 
*"  You  won't  if  you  don't  hurry  off,"  said  'Liza. 

The  Captain  went  off  stupefied.  Well,  he 
had  given  her  a  fair  chance.  The  rafts  started. 
As  they  got  well  into  mid-stream,  Captain  'Zekiel 
saw  his  family  on  the  bank  watching.  His  wife 
had  the  baby  in  her  arms.  "  Wobbie "  held 
Pink's  hand.  The  rafts  were  well  made  and 
well  piled  up.  There  was  a  long  oar  fitted  at 
both  ends  of  each.    Mr.  Combe  and  "  the  Hands  " 


36  The  Captains  Bargain. 

manipulated  the  first  raft.  'Zekiel  alone  proudly 
managed  the  second. 

When  the  rafts  reached  Lacy,  almost  the  first 
person  Captain  'Zekiel  saw  was  the  constable. 
His  heart  fell.  The  wretched  mother  had  come 
back  to  claim  that  boy !  "  She's  found  ? "  he 
asked. 

"  What,  the  tramp  woman,  that  left  the  young 
one?  You'd  better  believe  she  ain't.  She'll 
never  turn, up.  You've  got  the  boy  on  your 
hands,  sure  enough,  Cap'n  ;  and  everybody  in 
Lacy  is  talking  how  good  it  is  of  you,  too." 

Oh,  suppose  he  had  brought  the  boy  back  ! 

"  Have  a  glass,  Cap'n,  before  you  start  for  the 
train  ?"  asked  Mr.  Combe,  for  politeness'  sake. 

Ah,  it  would  not  do  to  anger  'Liza  by  going 
home  in  any  one  of  his  three  abnormal  states. 
She  would  send  the  boy  away  then  sure,  and 
every  one  was  saying  how  good  he  was,  too  ! 
Besides,  suppose  in  the  itat  glorieux  he  should 
pick  up  another  boy  ! 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Captain  Allen,  and 
went  home,  without  the  taint  of  Jamaica,  to  his 
household.  There  were  no  storms  that  night, 
and  Pink  was  not  fretting.  The  boy  in  a  cor- 
ner was  building  cob-houses  for  her  to  knock 
over.  Mistress  Allen  said,  "  I  have  never  had 
such  a  day's  peace  with  Pink  since  she  was  born." 


To  Go,  or  not  to  Go.  37 

While  Pink  was  being  put  to  bed,  the  waif 
went  and  climbed  on  Captain  Allen's  knee,  and 
sat  with  his  head  leaning  on  the  good  man's 
broad  breast.  Captain  Allen  was  not  in  the 
corner  that  night ;  he  was  not  full  of  remorse  ; 
he  sat  by  the  stove  and  whistled  "  Blue  Bonnets 
Over  the  Border." 

The  next  day  and  the  next  passed,  and  no 
word  was  said  about  the  boy.  But  the  position 
was  becoming  strained  ;  there  was  not  that  free- 
dom of  intercourse  between  the  Captain  and  his 
'Liza  which  is  pleasing  in  the  conjugal  relation. 
Topics  of  conversation  were  scarce  between 
them.  The  Captain  felt  that  the  "  affair  Wob- 
ble" must  be  definitely  settled.  He  took  his 
courage  in  his  hands.  "  'Liza,  I'm  going  down 
to  Lacy  to  get  an  order  this  afternoon.  Are 
you  resolved  that  I  shall  send  this  little  man  to 
the  poorhouse  ?" 

Pink  at  the  word  flung  herself  headlong  on  the 
floor,  and,  whirling  her  legs  and  arms  like  the  fans 
of  a  wind-mill,  shrieked  at  the  top  of  her  lungs. 
The  alarmed  Bop  joined  the  psean;  Babel  reigned. 
The  little  man  knew  that  his  fate  wavered  in 
the  balance.  By  one  of  those  divine  instincts 
of  childhood,  he  cast  himself,  not  upon  the 
Captain,  but  rushed,  white  with  terror,  to  lay 
hold  on  the  skirts  of  'Liza.     The  Captain  bowed 


38  The  Captain's  Bargain.  -~ 

his  head,  as  a  criminal  before  the  judge  with  the 
black  cap.  The  hour  of  'Liza's  triumph  had 
come !  Blessed  be  the  conqueror  who  knows 
how  to  administer  a  victory. 

"  The  boy  may  stay  so  long  as  you,  'Zekiel, 
don't  drink  a  drop,  and  you.  Pink,  don't  have 
another  tantrum." 

These  were  the  words  of  Eliza. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE    captain's    BARGAIN. 

In  1697  the  Peace  of  Ryswick  put  an  end  to 
war  between  England  and  France.  Nine  times 
has  happy  Utrecht  seen  the  peace  of  Europe 
concluded  within  her  walls,  albeit  often  for  too 
brief  a  space.  The  Peace  of  Amiens  held  out 
for  a  year  false  hopes  of  calm  to  the  great 
Powers.  The  first  Peace  of  Aix-la-Chapelle 
settled  the  question  of  the  possession  of  the 
Netherlands ;  the  second  Peace  signed  in  that 
Rhenish  city  seated  Maria  Theresa  on  an  im- 
perial throne.  The  "  Holy  Alliance  "  of  em- 
perors at  Vienna  dictated  terms  to  astonished 
France,  suddenly  bereaved  of  her  Bonapartes. 
By  the  Peace  of  Westphalia  Sweden  reached 
the  dignity  of  a  State  of  the  Empire.  Side  by 
side  with  these  famous  treaties  we  chronicle 
that  of  Lai's  Mountain,  whereof  Mistress  Eliza 
Allen  laid  down  the  terms.  Having  formulated 
these  conditions  which  were  likely  to  secure  her 
future  domestic  peace,  the  good  woman  picked 

(39) 


40  The   Captains  Bargain, 

up  her  sewing  and  sat  down  by  the  window,  mildly 
triumphant.  The  belligerents,  Captain  'Zekiel 
and  Pink,  each  laid  hold  on  that  disputed  ter- 
ritory, Robbie,  and  left  the  kitchen.  They  went 
around  the  corner  of  the  living-rooms,  and  be- 
low the  mill,  among  the  uninclosed  underpin- 
nings. Here,  standing  among  the  debris  of 
many  years,  rusty  tin,  broken  pottery,  rotting 
chips,  and  mouldy  shoes,  they  could  look  out 
upon  the  great  tireless  wheel,  slowly  revolving, 
its  moss-green  buckets  ever  coming  up  dripping 
from  the  mountain  stream,  the  slant  western 
sunshine  making  rainbows  of  the  falling  drops. 

Beyond  the  glistening  wet  wheel  was  the 
wooded  further  bank  where  birds  built  in  the 
thick  trees  and  pink  crane's-bill  and  snowy  bath- 
fiowers  leaned  forth  from  the  bracken  and 
arum. 

Captain  Allen  reached  up  among  the  dank, 
cobwebby  rafters  and  took  out  a  large  clear-glass 
bottle.  His  strong  arm  described  two  or  three 
great  circles  high  above  his  head  ;  then  a  crash 
mingled  with  the  monotonous  jar  of  the  wheel 
and  the  rush  of  the  waters,  and  certain  large 
pieces  of  broken  glass  lay  among  the  stones  in 
the  bed  of  the  stream.  The  Captain  said  noth- 
ing, but  his  uplifted  hand  fell  gently  upon  Rob- 
bie's curly  head  and  lay  there  in  the  fashion  of 


The  Captains  Bargain.  41 

making  a  covenant.  It  was  Pink's  sweet,  shrill 
voice  that  rose  in  speech — "  Pink  is  apitty  gell ! 
Pink  don't  have  no  tantums  !     No  !" 

But  though  all  was  thus  satisfactorily  con- 
cluded at  the  mill,  the  neighborhood  took  up 
the  matter,  and  the  neighborhood  was  a  unit 
against  Captain  'Zekiel  and  for  Mistress  'Liza. 
"  What  did  Captain  Allen  mean  bringing 
home  stray  children  in  that  style  for  his  poor 
wife  .to  worry  over?  Just  like  the  whole  Allen 
race,  always  too  generous  to  be  just.  And  they 
so  poor ! — loaded  with  mortgages  of  which  they 
could  scarcely  pay  the  interest.  And  no  house 
to  live  in,  only  two  rooms  under  the  mill.  And 
poor  Eliza  so  overworked,  and  at  her  wit's  end 
to  keep  things  decent.     It  was  fair  robbery  of 

the  children   they  had  already,  and "     The 

matrons  held  up  their  hands  and  raised  their 
eyes  in  unspeakable  reprobation  of  the  Captain's 
reckless  conduct. 

The  mentor  and  chief  authority  of  the 
sparsely  settled  school  district  where  stood  Cap- 
tain Allen's  hereditary  saw-mill  was  the  school- 
master. A  grave,  elderly,  gentle,  studious  man, 
full  of  sympathy  and  empty  of  ambitions,  he 
was  content  to  live  year  after  year  among  these 
simple  folk,  and  now  that  more  than  two  dec- 
ades of  his  sway  had  gone  by,  he  advised  and 


42  The  Captains  Bargain. 

instructed  these  mature  married  people  in  their 
difficulties,  financial  and  domestic,  just  as  he 
had  advised  and  instructed  them  concerning 
compound  addition,  geographic  boundaries,  or 
up -strokes  and  down  -  strokes  in  penmanship 
when  they  sat  on  the  blue  benches  of  the  old 
school-house. 

The  schoolmaster  boarded  with  Deacon  Britt, 
the  magnate  of  the  district,  and  Captain  Allen 
had  no  sharper  censors  than  Deacon  and  Mrs. 
Britt.  Therefore  it  was  borne  in  on  the  mind 
of  the  schoolmaster  that  he  should  pay  a  visit 
to  the  mill.  It  might  be  in  some  sort  a  pastoral 
visit.  There  was  no  church  within  seven  or 
eight  miles.  The  pastors  of  several  denomina- 
tions came  up  in  turn,  one  Sabbath  afternoon 
in  a  month,  and  held  service  in  the  school-house. 
When  there  was  a  fifth  Sabbath  in  the  month, 
the  schoolmaster  had  a  service.  His  was  always 
a  temperance  meeting,  and  Captain  Allen  had 
been  wont  to  feel  and  to  say  that  the  "school- 
master was  a  good  man,  but  going  a  leetle  far- 
ther than  was  required  of  him." 

The  schoolmaster  found  Mrs.  'Liza  busy.  She 
had  ripped  up  a  pair  of  the  Captain's  out-worn 
trousers,  and  the  four  pieces  were  laid  out  be- 
fore her  on  the  long  kitchen-table,  while  she 
stood  regarding  them   like  the  Fate  Atropos, 


The  Captains  Bargain.  43 

with  suspended  shears.  The  schoolmaster  was 
not  a  man  of  circumlocutions,  and  he  presently 
introduced  his  theme. 

"  I  hear  the  Captain  has  picked  up  another 
little  boy.  That  must  be  very  inconvenient  for 
you,  Mrs.  Allen, — two  besides  your  own." 

"  It  appears  to  fit  in  very  well  just  now,"  said 
'Liza,  with  a  dry  laugh,  regarding  her  work,  as 
a  general  the  plan  of  a  battle-field.  "Jerry, 
having  only  one  leg,  I  can  make  him  as  much 
trousers  as  he  needs  out  of  the  seat  and  the 
right  leg  of  the  Captain's,  and  the  other  boy  is  so 
small  I  can  make  him  an  entire  pair  out  of  the 
left  leg — which  is  left." 

These  severe  economies  seemed  hard  to  the 
schoolmaster,  and  then,  trousers  could  not  al- 
ways be  thus- constructed.     He  continued  : 

"  Any  time,  Mrs.  Allen,  when  you  find  this 
too  much  for  you,  I'll  speak  to  the  guardians 
about  the  child." 

"  Well  !  I  guess  me  and  Captain  Allen  will  be 
hard  up,"  cried  Mrs.  'Liza,  valiantly,  "when  we 
can't  do  for  a  child  we've  seen  fit  to  adopt.  And 
we  are  not  such  heathens  as  to  send  a  dear  little 
innocent  fellow  to  that  hideous  county  alms- 
house. We  will  do  better  than  that  for  him,  if 
we  are  poor." 

"  I'm  the  last  one  to  wish  a  child  in  the  county- 


44  The  Captains  Bargain. 

house,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "  I  only  spoke 
with  a  feeling  for  you.  In  such  a  matter  more 
is  to  be  regarded  than  money.  The  responsibility 
of  a  child  is  a  great  one,  Mrs.  Allen.  The  child 
being  immortal,  any  work  for  the  child  runs  far 
out,  yes,  through  eternity.  It  is  a  work  not  only 
of  feeding  and  clothing  the  body,  but  of  nurtur- 
ing the  heart,  the  mind,  the  soul." 

"  I've  precious  little  time  to  think  in  all  those 
directions,"  said  Mrs.  'Liza.  "  There  isn't  much 
I  can  do  for  the  boy,  but  I  can  and  will  mother 
him." 

Just  then  the  child  in  question  came  in  with 
Pink  ;  he  and  she  were  leading  between  them 
the  faltering  steps  of  the  eighteen-months-old 
Bop.  The  three  went  straight  to  Eliza,  and 
leaned  against  her  apron,  as  if  she  belonged 
equally  to  all  of  them.  Tears  came  into  the  eyes 
of  the  master  at  this  spectacle.  He  said,  with 
a  quiet  tone : 

"  If  you  mother  him,  Mrs.  Allen,  you  do  the 
very  best  that  can  be  done  for  him.  Scripture 
itself  cannot  go  beyond  that,  for  it  is  written, 
*  As  one  whom  his  mother  comforteth,  so  will  I 
comfort  you.' " 

Perhaps  it  was  owing  to  the  report  of  the 
schoolmaster  that  the  neighborhood  ceased  its 
criticisms,  and  accepted  "  Wobbie  "  as  part  and 


The  Captains  Bargain,  45 

parcel  of  the  Allen  household.  And  the  child 
made  good  his  place  there.  The  Captain  loved 
him  as  we  love  that  which  has  cost  us  much. 
None  but  Captain  'Zekiel  knew  what  the  renun- 
ciation of  his  glass  of  liquor  had  cost  him.  None 
knew  how  he  craved  his  lifelong  indulgence,  and 
fought  fiercely  with  appetite  for  the  child's  sake. 
None  but  the  Captain  knew  how  strong  that 
appetite  had  become.  It  was  like  cutting  off 
a  right  hand,  or  plucking  out  a  right  eye  to 
deny  it. 

Mrs.  'Liza  loved  the  boy  as  the  pledge  of  her 
greatest  victory,  and  the  assurance  of  her  family 
peace.  She  had  been  sorely  troubled  lest  Cap- 
tain Allen  should  ruin  himself  and  disgrace  his 
children  by  falling  into  drunkenness.  Now  her 
horizon  cleared,  the  great  cloud  of  her  married 
life  had  melted  away  under  Robbie's  sunny 
smile. 

And  then,  there  was  Pink.  The  child  was  of 
a  timid,  lonely  disposition  and  delicate  health. 
Unwilling  to  play  out  of  doors  or  alone,  she  had 
clung  to  the  house  and  her  mother,  forever  in 
the  way,  cross  and  unhealthy  from  lack  of  out- 
of-door  air  and  proper  sport.  But  Robbie  was 
a  very  king  of  sports.  From  morning  until 
night  he  was  ready  to  frolic,  and  he  rejoiced  in 
the  "greenwood  tree,"  like  another  Robin  Hood. 


46  The  Captains  Bargain. 

All  that  he  had  ever  seen  of  life  or  play  he  re- 
hearsed daily,  but  always  in  genial,  innocent 
fashion.  His  "  let's  play  "  became  a  formula  for 
the  cure  of  all  Pink's  ills.  He  embraced  the 
baby  in  the  games,  and  all  the  baby's  vandal- 
isms. If  the  baby  carried  off  playthings,  and 
broke  up  toys,  the  scream  of  Pink's  rage  was 
arrested  by  "  Let's  play,"  "  Let's  play  he  was  a 
wobber,"  "  Let's  play  he  was  a  big  dog,"  "  Let's 
play  he  was  the  bobby  takin'  off  ze  sings  for 
went."  He  taught  Pink  how  to  make  houses  of 
sticks  and  stones,  and  to  furnish  them  with 
acorns,  broken  china,  and  leaves  and  flowers. 
Bread,  under  the  magic  wand  of  his  imagina- 
tL-on,  became  cake  and  pie  and  meat ;  and  water 
was  milk,  tea,  coffee,  soup.  Out  of  doors,  run- 
ning, laughing,  enjoying  from  morning  to  even- 
ing, getting  healthful  appetite  and  healthful 
fatigue,  Pink  grew  plump,  rosy,  pleasant.  Mrs. 
Eliza  said  she  "  never  had  known  so  much  peace 
since  she  was  married." 

"  My  Bargain  isn't  such  a  bad  bargain  after 
all,  is  it,  'Liza?"  said  the  Captain.  "It  turns 
out  a  good  one." 

Above  the  Captain's  living-rooms  was  a  work- 
shop, where,  when  other  work  was  slack,  the 
Captain  and  "  the  Hands  "  made  beehives,  wash- 
ing benches,  common  doors,  and  did  other  such 


The  Captains  Bar  gat  ft.  47 

crude  carpentry  as  was  needed  by  the  immediate 
neighbors.  If  the  weather  was  bad,  this  shop 
became  the  playground  of  the  children,  where, 
under  Robbie's  leadership,  they  made  boats, 
dolls,  stores,  out  of  chips  and  shavings. 

On  a  rainy  day  in  May,  they  were  thus  in  the 
shop,  and  at  last  the  baby  had  fallen  asleep  on  a 
pile  of  shavings,  and  Pink  was  building  particu- 
larly high  towers  all  by  herself.  Robbie  climbed 
to  the  corner  of  the  work-bench,  and  watched 
Jerry  grooving  the  side  of  a  beehive  for  Deacon 
Britt. 

"  Jerry,"  said  Robbie, "  was  you  made  with  one 
leg  and  one  eye  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Jerry.  "  I  had  two  legs,  and 
two  eyes.  But  I  lost  'em.  I  lost  a  leg,  and  I 
lost  an  eye." 

"  Do  you  think,  Jerry,  that  I'll  lose  a  leg,  and 
an  eye  ? " 

"  Oh,  I  hope  not,"  said  Jerry,  "for  you've  got 
as  handsome  a  pair  of  eyes,  and  as  handsome  a 
pair  of  legs,  as  any  one  could  wish  to  see.  And 
then,  you're  not  so  unfort'nate  as  I  am.  No 
one  ever  is  so  unfort'nate.  I  was  born  unfort- 
'nate. In  the  first  place,  my  father  and  mother 
died  when  I  was  a  baby,  and  I  had  only  my 
poor  old  granny  to  take  care  of  me.  When  I 
was  about  your  size,  I  began  selling  papers.     I 


48  The  Captains  Bargain, 

kept  on  with  that  for  two  or  three  years,  till  one 
day,  standing  with  my  papers,  as  you  may  say, 
under  my  arm,  looking  at  some  men  unloading 
a  wagon  of  whiskey-barrels,  one  of  the  men 
having  too  much  whiskey  in  him,  let  a  barrel 
slip,  and  it  rolled  on  my  leg.  They  took  me  to 
the  hospital,  and  my  leg  had  to  be  cut  off." 

"  Oh,  dear  ! "  sighed  Robbie,  deeply  interested. 

"  When  I  was  cured,  and  had  a  wooden  leg, 
I  went  out  with  my  papers  again.  Well,  one 
night  I  went  into  a  cobbler-shop,  as  was  in  the 
cellar,  we  living  in  the  attic ;  and  the  cobbler, 
he  was  took  with  what  they  call  '  tremblings,' 
and  began  to  sling  things  around  rather  permis- 
kis,  thinking  there  was  rats  on  the  floor.  One 
of  the  things  he  slung  was  an  awl,  and  it  hit  my 
eye — and  that  was  gone — and  they  took  me  to 
the  hospital  again.  They  did  something  to  the 
cobbler — give  him  six  months  or  so — but  that 
didn't  put  back  my  eye,  did  it,  now  ?  " 

Robbie  shook  his  curly  head  in  grave  nega- 
tion. 

"When  I  came  out  that  time,  the  doctors  give 
me  two  dollars,  and  I  bought  a  kit  and  set  up 
for  a  shoeblack.  We  lived  in  a  alley  off  Water 
Street,  Philidelphy.  But  after  awhile,  along  of 
the  wet  and  cold  of  an  awful  bad  winter,  my 
granny  having  died,  and  nobody  being  left  to 


The  Captains  Bargain.  49 

keep  me  a  fire  or  a  bit  of  hot  victuals,  why,  I 
got  the  newmony  on  my  lungs,  and  I  got  took 
to  the  hospital ;  that  was  the  third  time.  A 
mighty  nice  place  is  the  hospital ;  it's  warm,  it's 
quiet,  it's  clean.  You  gets  well-treated,  good 
bed,  good  grub,  clean  clothes.  Oh,  I  liked  the 
hospital  first-class,  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  leave 
it.  Along  of  my  bein'  so  unfort'nate,  they  let 
me  stop  a  good  while.  But  I  couldn't  stop  for- 
ever. Other  folks  wanted  to  come  in,  and  I 
had  to  rurn  out.  One  of  the  doctors  give  me 
fifty  cents,  and  the  matron  did  me  up  extry 
shirt  and  socks  in  a  bundle,  and — there  I  was, 
outside  the  gate.  They  told  me  to  go  to  my 
friends.  But  you  can't  go  to  your  friends  when 
you  haven't  any  friends  to  go  to,  can  you,  now  ?  " 

Robbie  shook  his  head  to  show  that,  in  his 
opinion,  decidedly  you  could  not. 

"Well,  I  hung  round  the  hospital  corner.  It 
was  in  October.  It  began  to  get  evenin',  an' 
cold  an'  foggy,  an'  I  bein'  weak,  an'  only  little 
past  'leven,"  added  Jerry,  apologetically,  "  I  sat 
on  the  curbstone  an'  I  cried  my  hardest.  Just 
then,  'long  come  Cap'n  Allen.  He  stopped  to 
ask  what  was  up,  an'  when  he  seen  me  so  very 
unfort'nate — one  eye,  one  leg,  thin,  and  all  that 
— he  said,  come  along  with  him  an'  he'd  see  me 
all  right.     I'll  allow,"  added  Jerry,  "from  the 


50  The  Captains  Bargain, 

way  the  Cap'n  talked — for  he  had  been  havin*  a 
glass  or  two — I  made  sure  he  owned  half  Penn- 
sylvany;  an'  that  I  was  goin'  to  be  dressed  in 
welvvet,  an'  eat  off  silver  dishes,  an'  be  a  Cresses 
all  my  days.  But  after  all,  what's  the  odds  ?  I 
think  I  like  it  better  as  it  is.  It  suits  my  one 
eye,  and  my  wooden  leg,  and  my  raising.  Be- 
sides, what  more  can  a  man  want  than  enough 
to  eat,  a  good  bed,  a  good  fire,  clean  clothes, 
and  plenty  to  do  ?  Ain't  that  enough  for  a 
man  ? '' 

Robbie  was  an  admirable  listener  ;  he  merely 
nodded  to  show  that  these  were  his  views  en- 
tirely. 

"  But  when  Cap'n  'Zekiel  brought  me  home," 
cried  Jerry,  warming  to  his  tale,  "  then  there  was 
a  time.  They  hadn't  no  children  then,  and  I'll 
allow  that  when  a  woman  gets  offered  to  her, 
for  her  first  child,  a  boy  'leven  year  old  past, 
with  a  peaked  face  yaller  with  sickness,  and  only 
one  eye,  and  a  wooden  leg,  nat'rally  that  woman 
wouldn't  be  expected  to  take  kindly  to  it.  The 
ma'am,  she  was  mad.  She  says  to  Cap'n  'Ze- 
kiel, 'That  boy's  goin'  down  to  Philidelphy  in 
the  next  barge  as  ever  goes  down  the  river,  and 
that  is  Deacon  Britt's,'  says  she,  *  an'  it  goes  this 
day  week.'  When  you  come  here,  you  know, 
and  a  little  breeze  was  raised  similar,  I  knowed 


The  Captains  Bargain.  51 

how  to  feel  for  you.  And  when  I  see  how 
much  gumption  you  showed,  keeping  well  out 
of  sight  behind  the  stove,  an'  lettin'  the  ma'am 
handle  you  as  she  liked,  an'  keepin'  Pink  pleased, 
I  'lowed  you  was  the  right  sort." 

Robbie  showed  all  his  teeth  in  joy  of  this  en- 
comium. 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  didn't  lay  out  to  go  back  to 
the  sidewalks  of  Philidelphy.  I  had  a  week  to 
get  on  the  good  side  of  the  ma'am.  When  I 
had  been  let  stay  in  the  hospital,  after  I  was 
pretty  well,  I  had  gone  round  where  I  liked,  and 
a  good  bit  in  the  kitchen.  So  I  knew  how  to 
do  a  thing  or  two.  Next  day  I  asked  the 
ma'am  to  let  me  shine  the  knives,  an'  black  the 
stove,  seein'  I'd  learned  how  to  handle  shoe- 
brushes.  She  let  me.  Then  I  'lowed  I  could 
wash  the  dishes.  Next  thing  I  'lowed  I  could 
do  was  mop  the  floor  and  clean  the  windows. 
Then,  one  day,  when  I  heard  the  ma'am  tell  the 
Cap'n  '  she  couldn't  get  into  this  shop,  he  kep' 
such  a  plaguey  litter,'  I  came  up  here  an'  cleaned 
it  all  up,  an'  shone  the  tools,  an'  went  an'  asked 
her  to  come  see  how  nice  it  looked  I  knowed 
she  couldn't  abide  the  noise  of  my  leg,  so  one 
day  I  says  to  her  that  there  was  some  good  in  a 
wooden  leg.  Boys  v/ith  two  own  legs  can  be 
mighty  softly  if  they  like,  and  sneak  into  the 


52  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

closet,  an'  listen  behind  doors,  '  but  wherever  I 
am,  you're  bound  to  hear  me,'  says  I  ;  and  the 
ma'am  she  'lowed  there  was  some  sense  in  that. 
The  day  that  barge  of  Deacon  Britt's  was  to  go  * 
down  stream,  I  rose  up  early,  an'  told  the  ma'am 
that  as  there'd  been  a  big  frost,  if  she'd  let  me 
go  up  the  mounting,  I  could  bring  her  a  lot  of 
nuts,  an'  I  'lowed  as  she  might  like  to  have  a 
^ile  of  chestnuts  and  hickorys  for  winter.  She 
told  me  to  go,  an'  you  may  make  up  your  mind 
I  didn't  get  back  till  dark  night,  when  I  made 
sure  that  blessed  barge  was  well  down  past  Lacy. 
Then  I  came  in  with  a  bag  of  nuts,  an'  'lowed  I 
could  get  twice  as  many  more,  if  she'd  let  me 
go  again.  I've  never  heard  any  more  talk  about 
sendin'  me  down  to  Philidelphy.  For  the  first 
two  years  and  a  half  I  did  a  grist  of  housework, 
and  minding  Pink  when  she  come,  but  I'll  'low 
I  never  was  a  master-hand  with  children.  For 
a  year  and  a  half  now,  I've  been  the  only  man 
the  Cap'n's  had,  an'  me  an'  the  Cap'n  gets  along 
remarkable — yes,  remarkable.  Because,  you  see, 
I  don't  mind  work,  an'  if  you're  goin'  to  work, 
you  might  just  as  well  work  hard.  You've  got 
to  do  something  in  this  world,  haven't  you? 
Well,  then,  I  say,  why  not  as  well  work  as  any- 
thing?" 

From   the  vigorous  way   in   which   Robbie 


The  Captains  Bargain.  53 

nodded  his  head,  those  seemed  to  be  his  ideas 
exactly. 

So  this  was  the  history  of  the  Captain's  other 
Bargain.  Neither  had  that  been  a  bad  bargain, 
Mrs.  'Liza  being  witness.  Jerry  did  a  deal  more 
work  than  most  boys  of  fifteen  who  have  the 
full  complement  of  legs  and  eyes.  He  had  a 
certain  knack  of  handling  a  saw,  a  hammer,  a 
plane ;  and  if  a  neighbor  came  to  have  a  bit  of 
work  done,  while  Captain  'Zekiel  was  up  on  the 
mountain  looking  at  such  stray  lots  of  standing 
timber  as  might  be  offered  him,  Jerry  was  capable 
of  doing  whatever  was  to  be  done.  If  "the 
ma'am  "  wanted  a  nail  driven,  or  a  stool  made, 
or  soft-soap  boiled,  Jerry  was  on  hand  prompt 
to  execute  the  commission.  He  had  been  to 
school  winters  until  he  could  read  and  write 
after  a  fashion,  but  Jerry  said  he  "  didn't  take 
to  learning ;  a  man  couldn't  do  everything  in 
this  world,  could  he?" 

It  was  in  May  that  Mistress  Eliza  made  a 
proclamation  to  her  household.  She  said  she 
had  had  enough  of  nicknames.  Pink,  from  her 
red,  infantile  countenance,  had  been  called  Pink, 
until  no  one  knew  her  name  was  Elizabeth. 
Bop  had  been  adopted  as  short  for  "  baby," 
which  was  a  euphemism  for  Ezekiel.  This  new 
Bargain  of   the  Captain's  should   not  have  a 


54  ^>^^  Captains  Bargain. 

nickname.  No  Robbie  for  him.  He  look- 
ed a  princely  child,  with  a  right  to  have  a  full 
name — Robert ;  and  nothing  but  Robert  was 
henceforth  to  be  the  style  of  The  Captain's 
Bargain. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE    SUMMER    SUN    SHINES. 

The  hereditary  saw-mill  of  Captain  Allen 
was  one  of  the  few  survivors  of  the  hundred 
brave  mills  which  were  once  driven  by  the  vari- 
ous waters  of  Schuylkill  County.  In  early  days 
the  rugged  surface  of  that  county  was  covered 
with  magnificent  forests  of  chestnut,  oak,  beech, 
maple,  birch,  hemlock,  poplar,  and  pine.  Of 
these  it  has  now  been,  unfortunately,  nearly  de- 
nuded. Only  upon  some  of  the  most  rocky 
hills,  and  along  the  most  defiant  streams,  have 
new  forests  risen  to  replace  the  old.  The  Cap- 
tain's mill  stood  where  his  grandfather  had  built 
it,  but  its  glory  had  departed.  All  the  better 
kinds  of  timber  had  perished.  When  new 
houses  were  built,  brick  and  manufactured  lum- 
ber from  Maine  and  the  Carolinas  supplied  the 
contractors.  The  acres  which  belonged  to  the 
mill  were  few  and  unproductive,  and  beneath 
their  soil  lay  none  of  the  mineral  wealth  which, 
suddenly  developed,  has  enriched  many  of  the 
heirs  of  Schuylkill  lands.  One  misfortune  after 
another   had   pursued   the   Allen    generations. 

(55) 


56  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Their  little  property  was  mortgaged.  The  Cap- 
tain, until  he  reached  middle-age,  had  been  the 
sole  support  of  an  invalid  sister.  During  the 
years  of  his  tendance  upon  her,  'Liza,  having 
been  obliged  to  give  up  her  early  school-teach- 
ing, had  been  nurse  and  provider  for  a  paralyzed 
father.  At  last,  when  both  father  and  sister 
were  gone,  and  the  years  of  their  own  youth 
had  gone  also,  the  Captain  and  Eliza  married. 
Within  six  months,  the  house,  in  which  three  gen- 
erations of  Aliens  had  been  sheltered,  was  burned 
to  the  ground,  and  the  newly  married  pair  saved 
little  besides  the  stove,  crockery,  and  cooking 
utensils  of  the  outside  kitchen.  This  might 
have  overwhelmed  a  less  energetic  couple,  but, 
gathering  themselves  together  after  the  first 
amazement,  the  Captain  proceeded  to  fit  up  two 
rooms  below  the  mill  for  a  domicile,  and  make 
tables,  bedsteads,  and  other  furniture  therefor, 
while  Eliza  sewed  and  nursed  for  her  neighbors, 
until  she  had  earned  enough  for  another  plen- 
ishing of  household  linen,  blankets,  and  cur- 
tains. Her  busy  hands  were  never  still ;  she 
was  always  contriving  something  for  her  little 
home. 

Besides  the  mill,  the  Captain  owned  a  barge, 
\}^^  Fair-  Weather.  It  was  a  wide,  clumsy  craft, 
built  for  safety  and  capacity  for  lading.     The 


The  Summer  Sun  Shines.  57 

Captain  supplemented  the  small  income  of  the 
mill  by  a  yearly  voyage  to  Philadelphia,  down 
the  Schuylkill  and  its  system  of  canals. 

This  voyage  generally  occupied  six  weeks. 
It  was  undertaken  at  the  beginning  of  June. 
The  barge  had  a  great  square  sail,  which  could 
be  used  when  the  wind  chanced  to  serve,  but  its 
progress  was  generally  made  along  the  river  by 
a  setting-pole.  Through  the  canals  horses  were 
hired  for  towing,  though  Captain  Allen  remem- 
bered well  when  he  and  his  brother,  who  had 
long  since  "  gone  West,"  used  themselves  to  tow 
their  father's  boat  through  the  canals  by  fasten- 
ing the  towing-line  to  the  middle  of  a  stick,  the 
ends  of  which  they  braced  across  their  breasts, 
as  they  stoutly  dragged  their  boat. 

This  voyage  was  the  great  event  of  the  year 
to  the  Aliens.  It  was  a  long  picnic.  At  the 
city  the  Captain  bought  the  one  ready-made  suit, 
and  Eliza  the  one  gown-piece,  which  they  allowed 
themselves  for  each  year.  Eliza  also  bought  a 
little  bonnet-trimming,  some  shoes,  factory  cloth 
and  calico.  Nor  was  she  restricted  in  the  dear  de- 
light of  shopping  by  the  poverty  of  her  own 
purse.  Her  neighbors  sent  by  her  for  various 
articles,  which  she  had  the  pleasure  of  purchasing 
at  Philadelphia  stores.  But  the  real  object  of 
the  trip  was  not  merely  buying,  but  selling.   The 


58  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Captain  sold  on  commission,  or  bought  and  re- 
sold, honey,  butter,  cheese,  home-cured  bacon, 
ham  and  pork,  corn-husk  mats,  hand-knit  socks 
and  mittens,  and  many  other  articles,  for  which 
he  had  had  for  years  regular  purchasers  in  the  city. 

This  voyage  now  began  to  be  talked  of. 
Robert  understood  that  they  were  going  some- 
where in  the  boat,  and  he  was  to  go  too. 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Down  to  the  city,  where  you  came  from," 
said  Jerry. 

"  You  won't  tate  me  back  ?  "  cried  Robert, 
turning  wide  eyes  of  terror  on  the  Captain. 

"  No,  indeed,  my  man,  we'll  keep  you  for- 
ever," said  the  Captain.  It  did  cross  his  mind 
that  if  the  boy  were  seen  and  claimed  by  his 
parents,  he,  the  Captain,  would  be  freed  from  his 
oath  of  abstinence.  But,  at  the  same  time,  the 
Captain  felt  sure  that  liquor  drank  at  the  expense 
of  losing  Robert  would  be  liquor  that  cost  far 
too  dear.  He  was  prepared  to  do  valiant  battle 
with  all  creation  for  the  ownership  of  the  child. 
And,  indeed,  even  the  unmaternal  tramp  who 
deserted  him  would  not  have  been  at  all  likely 
to  recognize  in  the  jolly,  rosy,  plump,  spotlessly- 
clean  child  with  the  shining  curls,  the  thin,  pale, 
frightened,  dirty  little  one  she  had  abandoned  on 
the  roadside. 


The  Summer  Sun  Shines,  59 

'  That  Robert  had  been  brought  into  Schuyl- 
kill county  from  some  great  city  they  were 
sure  from  the  child's  notions  and  remarks. 
When  first  he  had  seen  the  impetuous  waters  of 
Lai's  Creek,  he  had  said  that  they  must  come 
from  **  an  awful  big  hyd'ant,  and  why  did  they 
let  'em  rim  away?"  When  he  saw  Jerry  milk- 
ing the  cow,  he  had  thrown  that  one-eyed  youth 
nearly  into  convulsions  by  saying  that  he  "didn't 
know  milk  came  out  of  a  live  hyd'ant."  At  first 
he  was  afraid  to  walk  on  the  grass,  lest  the 
"  bobbies,"  which  is  gamin  vernacular  for  police- 
men, should  "  get  him."  As  for  flowers,  the  first 
day  that  he  found  Pink  picking  liberal  dande- 
lions and  buttercups,  he  kept  checking  her,  and 
taking  the  flowers  from  her  and  hiding  them. 
At  last,  as  the  little  maid  kept  on,  and  Eliza  was 
coming,  he  seized  all  the  flowers  and  held  them 
himself.     At  this  Pink  wept. 

"  Give  Pink  her  flowers,"  said  Eliza. 

**  They's  mine,  I  picked  'em  ! "  insisted  Robert. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  said  Eliza,  finally, 
"  it  is  very,  very  naughty.  I  saw  Pink  pick  them. 
You  did  not  pick  one." 

"  I  picked  'em,"  asseverated  Robert,  "  if  Pink 
picked  'em  the  bobbies  will  get  her — and — and 
she's  too  little  for  the  bobbies  to  get.     I'm  big." 

Thus  Eliza  perceived  that  the  infant  Bayard 


6o  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

was  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  to  the  bobbies  in 
the  stead  of  Pink.  In  fact,  Pink  had  a  true 
knight  in  Robert.  "  Half  for  Pink  "  became  a 
byword  in  the  family.  Whatever  Robert  got, 
Pink  had  the  half,  and  if  he  divided  the  half,  for 
Pink  was  manifestly  the  larger  half.  Every 
apple  or  orange  given  him  by  custoniers  at  the 
mill,  every  cake  dealt  out  by  Mrs.  Deacon  Britt, 
was  "  half  for  Pink."  Finally,  a  man  who  was 
having  some  corn  ground,  for  the  mill  had  a  run 
of  stones  for  grinding  corn,  gave  Robert  a  bright 
new  cent.  He  ran  to  Eliza,  held  it  up,  and 
looked  at  it  with  eagerness. 

"  Tan  you  break  it  ?— half  for  Pink  ! " 

"  Oh,  no,  you  can't  break  a  penny,"  said  Eliza 
(who,  in  her  school-keeping  days,  had  broken  a 
sixpence  with  Captain  'Zekiel). 

Robert  gave  half  a  sigh  and  half  a  second  to 
thought,  then  "  All  for  Pink,"  he  said,  cheer- 
fully, and  handed  over  his  first  fortune  with  a 
smile. 

No  wonder  that  Captain  'Zekiel  thought  this 
little  gentleman  worth  all  the  drinks  in  the 
world. 

Once  assured  that  nothing  should  part  him 
from  his  new  parents,  Robert  beheld  with  inter- 
est the  process  of  cleaning,  repairing,  and  lading 
the  barge  Fair-  Weather. 


The  Summer  Sun  Shines.  6i 

"Am  you  going,  Jerry?"  he  asked  "the 
Hands"  one  evening.  " Don't  you  want  to  go 
on  the  boat  ?  " 

"  No,  I  ain't,"  said  Jerry,  "and  I  don't  want 
to  go.  I  don't  hanker  after  no  cities.  I  had 
enough  of  'em  when  I  was  little.  Cities  is  all 
smells  and  yells." 

"  You  might  go  to  the  hospital  again,"  said 
Robert. 

"  Not  unless  I  lost  one  of  my  arms,  and  I 
hope  I  won't  be  so  unfort'nate,"  said  Jerry. 
"  The  hospital  is  the  nicest  part  of  the  city,  but 
this  is  nicer  than  the  hospital,  by  a  long  shot. 
Besides,  you  see,  Robert,  somebody  must  stay 
home.  There's  the  cow  to  look  after,  and  the 
chickens  to  feed,  and  the  pig  to  be  tended,  and 
the  garden  to  be  weeded  and  hoed,  or  we  won't 
have  potatoes,  or  beans,  and  corn  for  winter. 
Then  somebody,  like  as  not,  will  want  some  corn 
ground  or  some  boards  run  out,  and  I've  got  to 
be  here  to  'tend  to  business." 

"Won't  you  be  lonesome,  Jerry?"  asked 
Robert. 

"  Not  much.  I'll  have  a  tip-top  time.  There's 
all  the  wood-ashes  from  the  winter  leached,  and 
the  winter  soap-grease  ready,  aisd  I'm  going  to 
make  the  year's  soap.  The  ma'am  she  'lows 
there  ain't  a  woman  in  this  district  can  make  as 


62  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

good  soap,  both  hard  and  soft,  as  Jerry  can. 
Then  the  cow  is  giving  lots  of  milk,  and  there'll 
be  none  of  you  here  to  use  milk  or  butter,  and 
I'll  churn  every  week  twice,  and  Saturdays  I'll 
borry  Deacon  Britt's  row-boat,  and  I'll  go  down 
to  Lacy  and  sell  my  butter,  and  all  the  eggs  the 
hens  lay,  and  any  garden-sass  that's  growed,  and 
when  the  ma'am  gets  back  I'll  have  a  nice  little 
bag  of  dollars  for  her.  The  ma'am  she  'lows 
there  never  was  such  a  feller  to  make  a  little 
money  as  Jerry.  I  don't  want  better  vacation 
than  going  down  to  Lacy  Saturdays  to  sell  my 
things.  The  ma'am  she  'lows  that  Jerry  could 
make  a  livin'  on  a  bare  rock,  and  so  I  could." 

"What  could  you  do  on  the  bare  rock, 
Jerry  ?  "  asked  Robert,  with  the  earnestness  of  a 
disciple. 

"  I'd,"  said  the  master  of  economics,  taken 
aback  by  the  practicality  of  the  question,  "  well, 
I'd  pound  up  the  rock,  and  sell  it  'stead  of  cuttle- 
bone  for  cage-birds ! " 

"  What  makes  it  so  much  nicer  here,  Jerry, 
than  in  the  city  ?  What  makes  the  city  all 
smells  and  yells  ?  "  asked  the  pupil. 

"  It's  my  'pinion,"  said  the  one-legged  pre- 
ceptor, "  that  what  ruins  the  city  is  the  whiskey. 
The  yells  comes  from  the  whiskey  out  and  out, 
fighting,  falling,  squabbling.     The  smells,  they 


The  Summer  Sun  Shines.  65 

come  from  dirt,  the  dirt  you  find  along  with  the 
smells  where  it  is  very  poor,  and  the  poorness 
comes  from  drinking  the  whiskey.  What  makes 
here  so  much  better  than  the  city,  Robert,  is — 
water.  You  see  the  water  there  ?  It  turns  our 
mill.  It  waters  the  trees  and  grass  and  flow- 
ers. It  makes  all  cool  and  clean  and  pleasant ; 
and  if  we  didn't  have  water  here  we  couldn't 
have  birds  or  squirrels  'round  us.  Our  river  is 
water.  There's  a  big  river  running  down  the 
city,  Robert,  and  it's  a  river  of  rum,  and  it  pro- 
duces accordin'."  With  which  mystical  sen- 
tence Jerry  went  off  to  feed  the  pig. 

Robert,  like  Jerry,  preferred  the  country  to 
the  city.  He  took  readily  to  his  rural  surround- 
ings, soon  learned  to  drive  the  cow  home  from 
her  feeding  on  the  hillside,  learned  to  spy  out 
the  birds'-nests  in  grass  and  bush,  and  watched 
them  in  such  intense  quiet  as  not  to  alarm  the 
brooding  birds.  He  would  stand  fascinated  to 
watch  the  squirrels,  red  and  gray,  whirling  round 
the  tree-trunks  ;  and  then,  what  wordless  joy  he 
found  in  the  downy  broods  of  chickens  !  To 
take  food  and  water  to  the  speckled  mothers  of 
those  fluffy,  cheeping  balls,  was  pure  joy.  If 
Robert  had  been  an  Egyptian  Prince  of  the  dy- 
nasty of  the  Elephantinites,  he  would  no  doubt 
have  put  the  chicken  among  gods  to  be  wor- 


64  1"^^  Captains  Bargain. 

shipped.  So  dear  were  the  delights  of  the 
home  at  the  mill,  that  Robert's  mind  was  equally 
divided  between  the  home  and  the  prospective 
trip. 

While  Jerry  had  always  called  his  protectors 
"The  ma'am"  and  "The  Cap'n,"  Robert  called 
them  "  father  and  mother."  Jerry,  well-esteemed 
and  well-cared  for,  was  always  "  the  Hands." 
Robert  slipped  at  once  into  the  place  of  a  treas- 
ured son.  Nor  was  it  without  envy,  that  the 
lately  criticising  neighbors  saw  the  Captain  and 
'Liza  "come  to  meeting"  with  the  new  boy  in 
their  household  band.  "Going  to  meeting" 
was,  in  the  Lai's  Mountain  district,  a  family  af- 
fair. On  the  blue  benches  of  the  school-house 
there  was,  between  the  father  and  mother,  no 
vacuum  abhorred  of  God,  occasioned  by  the 
leaving  of  the  children  to  play  at  home  during 
church-time.  The  honest  people  came,  and 
brought  their  children.  The  infants  sat  on 
their  mothers'  knees.  Sometimes  they  slept, 
sometimes  they  ate  cake,  sometimes  they  "  spoke 
in  meeting"  a  few  words  of  infantile  bab- 
ble, but  no  minister  had  ever  been  heard  of 
there  who  asked  a  mother  to  "  remove  that 
child,"  or  to  "keep  that  child  still."  The  inde- 
feasible right  of  the  children  in  the  house  of 
their  God  was  recognized.     Have  not  children 


The  Su7nmer  Sun  Shines.  65 

as  much  right  in  the  House  of  the  Holy  as  the 
sparrows?  "  Yea,  the  sparrow  hath  found  her- 
self a  house,  and  the  swallow  a  nest  for  herself, 
where  she  may  lay  her  young,  even  Thine  altars, 
O  Lord  of  Hosts,  my  King  and  my  God !" 

So,  on  those  calm,  fragrant,  sunny,  summer 
Sabbaths  the  Allen  family  walked  the  mile  to 
the  old  red  school-house.  Captain  'Zekiel  carry- 
ing Bop,  and  Robert  leading  Pink,  and  Jerry 
vigorously  stumping  in  the  rear  of  the  line  of 
march  ;  and,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Pink 
"  behaved  like  a  lady,"  and  stared  solemnly  at 
the  minister,  because  she  was  sitting  by  that  ad- 
mirable little  gentleman,  Robert,  who  seemed 
never  once  even  to  wink  his  long,  curly,  brown 
eyelashes,  until  the  whole  ceremony  was  ended. 

"  That  is  a  lovely  child,"  said  Mrs.  Deacon 
Britt,  bestowing  unlimited  seed-cake  on  the 
well-behaved  infant.  "  I  wish  you'd  give  him 
to  me,  Mrs.  Allen.  You  have  your  own,  you 
could  spare  him." 

"  He  is  my  own,  now,"  said  'Liza.  "  I  couldn't 
spare  him  by  any  manner  of  means." 

No.  Thanks  to  Robert,  she  looked  forward 
with  unalloyed  pleasure  to  her  trip  down  the 
Schuylkill.  Heretofore  the  stay  at  Philadelphia 
had  been  troubled  by  the  numerous  invitations 
the  genial  Captain  received  to  drink — and  the 


66  The  Captains  Bargain. 

great  difificulty  of  keeping  him  from  wasting 
that  hard-earned  money  which  was  to  pay  the 
year's  interest  on  the  mortgage.  But  now,  as 
the  Captain  was  a  man  of  his  word,  Mrs.  'Liza 
could  take  her  trip  with  a  cheerful  heart. 

And  so,  on  a  June  day,  the  Fair-Weather 
started.  There  was  a  tiny  cabin  fitted  up  with 
three  berths  for  the  family,  a  little  charcoal  stove 
for  the  cooking,  washing,  and  ironing.  The 
provisions  were  aboard.  The  freight  was  all 
piled  up  safely  under  the  deck,  or  covered  with 
a  tarred  tarpaulin  on  the  deck.  There  was  no 
packing  of  trunks,  or  buying  of  garments,  or 
making  a  travelling-gear  for  this  journey.  Eliza 
put  a  few  changes  of  raiment  into  a  little  blue 
bag,  and  the  Captain  carried  it  aboard  on  his 
shoulder ;  the  children  went  on  their  ship  bare- 
footed, in  the  ten-cent  chip-hats,  whereof  the 
careful  Eliza  had  lined  the  brims  with  green 
calico.  "The  Hands"  stood  on  the  bank  and 
waved  his  arm,  his  crutch,  and  his  wooden  leg  in 
farewell.  Mistress  'Liza  wasted  no  breath  in 
telling  the  invaluable  Jerry  what  to  do — he 
knew.  Like  Joseph,  all  that  his  master  had 
was  under  his  hand. 

Then  Mrs.  Eliza  sat  down  on  a  kitchen  chair 
beside  the  tiller,  to  lend  a  hand  in  steering,  if 
need  be ;  the  stout  Captain  planted  his  setting- 


The  Summer  Sun  Shines.  67 

pole  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and,  bowing  his 
huge  frame  against  it,  walked  in  great  strides 
along  the  deck  ;  and,  thus  propelled,  and  aided 
by  the  current,  the  Fair-  Weather  swept  away 
from  the  mill,  while  Robert  and  Pink,  on  their 
knees,  leaned  their  heads  over  the  low  bulwarks, 
and  laughed  at  their  own  reflections  in  the 
dancing  waters.  The  year  before,  Pink  had 
done  little  but  scream  and  keep  the  baby  scream- 
ing, all  the  way  to  Philadelphia  and  back — and . 
the  Captain  also  had  visited  the  big  bottle 
oftener  than  usual.  But  now,  blessed  be  Rob- 
ert's curly  head !  the  terms  of  the  "  Treaty  of 
Lai's  Mountain  "  had  been,  "  No  bottle — no 
tantrums  !  "     Madame  Eliza  was  at  peace. 

"There  are  plenty  to  want  Robea*t  now," 
she  had  casually  remarked  one  day,  knowing 
well  that  she  was  prepared  in  her  heart  to  fight 
his  own  mother  like  a  lioness  for  the  possession 
of  him. 

Down  the  creek,  which,  making  a  bend  about 
the  foot  of  Lai's  Mountain,  just  after  leaving 
the  mill,  widened  and  deepened,  and  rolled  more 
sluggishly,  until  it  joined  the  Schuylkill,  they 
floated  into  the  often-sung  river.  Above  them 
shone,  flecked  here  and  there  with  soft  clouds, 
like  the  famous  golden  fleece,  those  blue  June 
skies  of  the  Ke3'stone  State,  which  rival  the  skies 


68  The  Captains  Bargain. 

of  Italy.  They  drifted  by  those  "  flowery  banks  " 
which  were  bright  to  the  eye  of  the  poet  Moore. 
Tiie  long  grasses,  the  willows  and  the  birch 
leaned  to  touch  the  clear  waters ;  the  banks 
swept  in  goodly  curves,  now  high,  now  low  ; 
here,  little  shapely  cedars,  like  Christmas-trees, 
stood  erect,  among  gray  lichen-decked  stones ; 
there,  brambles  white  with  bloom,  and  wild-roses 
flushed  with  fragrant  flowers,  wreathed  the 
banks.  Little  islets  rose  upon  their  right,  and 
drifted  slowly  behind  them,  as  the  Fair-  Weather 
went  steadily  on.  Here  a  little  sail-boat,  or  a 
clumsy  barge,  passed  them  or  met  them  ;  here  a 
little  punt  rocked  on  the  water,  while  a  man  or 
a  boy  fished.  Robert  and  Pink  fished  too,  with 
bent  pins  tied  to  threads.  They  caught  nothing, 
unless  the  happy  thought  occurred  to  the  Cap- 
tain to  secretly  pull  up  the  lines  and  fasten  to 
them  a  spool,  or  a  bit  of  chip  or  other  trash,  it 
was  all  "fish"  to  the  children.  At  evening  the 
Fair-Weather  was  tied  up  at  the  bank.  The 
Captain  had  friends  all  along  the  shores ;  he 
had  gone  up  and  down  the  Schuylkill  once  or 
twice  a  year  for  over  thirty  years.  The  friends 
came  aboard  to  visit  Captain  'Zekiel  and 'Liza, — 
gray  old  men,  with  tales  of  "  When  I  was 
young";  brisk  housewives,  with  narrations  of 
new  recipes,  and  new  patterns  of  quilts  ;  young 


The  Summer  Sun  Shines.  69 

men  and  maidens,  out  for  an  evening  of  court- 
ing ;  little  children  sometimes  brought  to  play 
with  the  Captain's  children. 

Thanks  to  the  Captain's  former  methods  of 
good  fellowship,  there  were  big  bottles  brought 
too,  sometimes,  as  well  as  babies.  Great  was 
the  wonder  when,  with  a  little  constrained  laugh, 
Captain  'Zekiel  said  : 

"  No,  thankee,  no  ;  I'm  sworn  off  that  now." 

Well !  well  !  They  looked  at  Mrs.  'Liza,  but 
she  said  never  a  word.  'Liza  was  one  of  those 
women  who  can  be  blind  and  deaf  whenever  it 
suits  them. 

"  Sworn  off  !  Well,  'Zekiel,  has  the  temper- 
ance wave  swept  you  in  too  ?  'Pears  to  me  it's 
going  to  sweep  us  all  in  sometime  before  long," 
said  one  patriarch. 

"  It  won't  sweep  in  all  of  you  older  men  who 
have  been  taking  your  night-caps  forfifty  or  sixty 
years,"  said  a  dame  who  was  "visiting"  with 
'Liza;  "you'll  keep  to  your  toddy.  But  that 
toddy  generation  will  drop  off  one  by  one,  and 
we'll  have  a  generation  that  have  suckled  tem- 
perance ideas  with  their  mothers'  milk.  We'll 
have  a  generation  of  children  that  hear  and  see, 
read  and  sing  temperance,  and  then  you'll  see 
what  the  country'll  rise  to,  when  they  go  to  the 
polls,   straight   and  strong,   clean   skins,   keen 


70  The  Captains  Bargain. 

brains,  clear  ideas  of  what  ought  to  be  and  what 
ought  not  to  be." 

"  Hear  her.  She's  one  of  the  lights  of  the 
temperance  cause,  is  my  niece,  Sary  Ann," 
laughed  the  patriarch. 

'•  And  I'm  glad,  Captain  'Zekiel,"  said  Sary 
Ann,  "that  you've  took  the  right  turn  in  the 
prime  of  your  days." 

"  Well,  you  see,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel,  "  me 
and  'Liza,  we  'dopted  a  boy ;  a  little  chap  that 
seemed  to  need  adoptin'.  But  we're  poor,  and 
we  can't  afford  to  lay  out  in  all  lines.  It  costs 
money  to  fill  a  jug,  and  it  costs  money  to  buy 
another  child  shoes,  and  so,  and  so — why — there's 
the  boy,  you  see,  and  me  and  'Liza,  we  have 
made  a  Bargain." 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    ADVANTAGES    OF    LIVING    WITH    A    PHI- 
LOSOPHER. 

Down  the  river  and  its  locks  to  Philadelphia, 
and  up  the  stream  again,  after  a  week  in  the 
city,  went  the  good  barge  Fair-  Weather.  To 
Robert  that  voyage  was  one  splendid  panorama 
of  delight ;  its  scenes  shifting  in  time  to  a  low 
murmurous  music  of  waters,  and  singing  birds, 
and  leaves  stirring  in  the  summer  breeze.  In 
that  blissful  period  he  lost  the  memory  of  his 
miserable  past ;  he  no  longer  recollected  that  he 
had  had  his  head  knocked  against  the  wall,  or 
had  hidden  under  the  bed,  or  that  he  had  fled 
shrieking  from  rum-maniacs,  or  that  his  toes  had 
been  frost-bitten,  or  his  fingers  blue  with  cold. 
All  this  that  had  hung  in  the  background  of  his 
infant  mind,  a  haze  of  horror,  vanished  out  of 
sight,  the  cruise  of  the  Fair-Weather  coming 
like  a  curtain  of  beautiful  golden  mist,  to  ob- 
scure all  that  was  behind  it.  Robert's  life  had 
now  a  fairer  horizon  :  all  about  him  was  now 
green  fields  and  blue  sky,  and  on  the  verge  where 
earth  and  heaven  met,  walked  his  guardian  angels, 

(71) 


72  The  Captains  Bargain.   - 

the  kindly  Captain,  tlie  energetic  Mrs.  'Liza,  and 
the  saucy  Pink. 

Oh,  that  was  indeed  a  beautiful  six  weeks. 
There  were  hours  when  the  Captain  stopped  to 
gather  up  a  little  more  cargo,  and  Pink  and 
Robert  went  and  played  on  the  bank  and  picked 
flowers.  There  were  Sundays  when  the  boat  was 
tied  up,  and  they  all  went  to  some  country 
church,  and  took  dinner  and  tea  with  farmhouse 
acquaintances.  There  were  admirable  people 
who  came  on  the  boat  and  gave  cakes  and  straw- 
berries to  Robert  and  Pink.  Strawberries ! 
The  little  pair  sat  down  on  the  deck,  each  with 
a  plate  of  fruit,  and  their  finger-tips  became  red 
as  the  berries  they  conveyed  to  their  mouths. 
Whenever  Robert  found  an  especially  large  berry 
it  went  to  Pink,'and  not  to  himself.  In  truth, 
the  little  maid  soon  grew  to  expect  it,  and  when 
the  boy  picked  up  a  peculiarly  luscious  cone,  she 
bent  forward  and  opened  her  mouth,  as  if  she  were 
a  mechanical  toy  made  for  seizing  strawberries. 

The  Fair-  Weather  returned  to  the  mill,  and 
Jerry  delivered  up  his  trust  of  the  estate,  and 
with  pride  gave  his  little  bag  of  dollars  to 
Mrs.  'Liza.  The  summer  went  by  to  the  tune 
of  "  Let's  play"  and  "  Half  for  Pink." 

It  was  on  an  October  Saturday,  that  the  school- 
master, who  had  been  out  collecting  autumn 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  73 

flowers,  met  Robert,  Pink,  and  Bop  at  the  edge 
of  the  wood.  Robert  was  carrying  Bop,  and  a:. 
Bop  was  both  fat  and  struggling,  Robert's  faci 
was  red  from  his  exertions.  Bop,  screaming 
lustily,  was  clawing  promiscuously  at  his  little 
nurse's  hair  and  ears. 

"  Take  the  child  home,"  said  the  schoolmas- 
ter ;  "  he  wants  to  go  to  his  mother." 

"  Mower  can't  be  bovvered  with  him,"  said 
Robert.     **  She's  dot  a  pair  of  t'ins." 

"Twins!     Boys?" 

Robert  nodded,  doubtfully. 

"Girls?" 

Another  doubtful  nod.  Then  the  young 
man's  face  cleared.  "  They's  half  boys,  and  half 
gells.  I  like  gells,  'cause  Pink's  a  gell ;  I  like 
boys,  'cause  I'm  a  boy.  But  I've  got  to  tend 
Bop.  He'll  det  used  to  it,  won't  he  ?  He  tan't 
ky  forever,  tan  he  ?  " 

No.  Evidently  even  Bop,  fine  as  was  his  ca- 
pacity for  crying,  could  not,  like  the  stream,  run 
on  forever. 

The  schoolmaster  thought  he  could  not  spend 
the  rest  of  the  day  better  than  in  taking  care  of 
the  children  of  the  woman  who  had  endowed 
the  world  with  "a  pair  of  t'ins."  He  put  a  pep- 
permint-drop into  each  open  mouth,  took  Bop 
on  his  shoulder,  and  entered  the  woods. 


74  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Come  see  what  I've  got,"  cried  the  happy 
Robert,  leading  the  way  to  a  tree,  where  the  de- 
cay of  the  short  stump  of  a  Hmb  had  made  a 
natural  vase  or  bowl,  which  was  filled  with 
water,  "  See  !  it  was  all  dirt  and  leaves,  and  I 
cleaned  it  out,  and  now  it's  filled  up  of  clean 
water,  and  sings  *  come  and  drink.'  The  chip- 
munk holds  on  with  his  feet,  and  puts  his  nose 
over  the  rim.  The  birds  stand  on  the  edge,  and 
dip  in  their  bills ;  the  big  butterflies  come  here 
and  drink,  too,  and  Pink  and  I  stand  to  watch 
*em  !  I  love  to  give  sings  drinks.  I  put  a  chair 
by  the  corner  of  the  mill,  and  put  a  pail  full  of 
water  on  it,  for  horses  that  come,  and  I  lead 
'em  along,  an'  they  drink  a  whole  pail  full ! 
They  drinked  free  pails'  full,  in  one  day — once." 

"  But  how  did  you  get  a  pail  filled,  Robert  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  tooked  it  in  dippers.  Lots  of  dip- 
pers, till  it  was  full.  Mower  said  I'd  run  my 
legs  off,  carrying  water — but  I  didn't ;  my  legs 
is  just  as  good  as  they  was."  And  Robert, 
casting  down  his  eyes,  surveyed  his  vigorous 
little  person  with  proper  pride,  and  continued : 

"  I  give  the  mans  drinks,  too.  You  know,  a 
man  came  las'  yesterday,  and  he  said,  *  'Zekiel, 
haven't  you  a  drop  to  keep  a  man  aliv^e  ?  I'm 
'most  dead  for  a  drink.'  An'  I  said,  '  Oh,  Mister, 
I'll  get  you  a  drink.'     And  I  ran,  and  I  brought 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  75 

a  whole  dipper  full — 'cause  he  was  most  dead — ■ 
and  he  looked  at  me  real  funny,  and  he  drinked 
an  awful  lot,  and  he  said,  '  'Zekiel,  the  boy's 
right ;  that  goes  to  the  right  spot.'  And 
they  both  laughed.  I  don't  know  why  they 
laughed,  and  I  don't  know  why  he  got  'most 
dead  for  a  drink,  when  there  was  a  whole  river 
full — and  I  don't  know  why  he  said  the  '  right 
spot,'  for  there  ain't  but  one  spot,  is  there,  and 
that's  inside  of  you  ?  I  will  ask  Jerry  all  zem 
sings." 

After  this,  the  young  chatterbox  made  a  tour 
of  observation,  and  returned  on  tiptoe,  flushed, 
eager.     "  Come  see  !     Come  see  ! " 

They  went  through  a  group  of  hemlock  trees, 
and  there  Robert  pointed  out  a  great  fungus, 
which  he  called  a  "toad-stool,"  on  authority  of 
Jerry.  Beside  it  was  a  large  wood-turtle.  The 
reptile's  head  was  lifted,  and  it  was  busily  eating 
the  fungus,  walking  slowly  round  it,  and  eating 
the  fleshy  substance,  taking  it  off  in  a  neat  ring. 
It  slowly  chewed  this  pabulum  and  rejected  the 
fibrous  portions,  so  that  under  the  fungus  lay  a 
little  white  circle  of  chewed  matter.  They 
watched  while  the  animal  went  slowly  around 
the  plant,  eating  ;  and  the  sharp-eyed  Robert 
pointed  out  two  or  three  other  toad-stools,  which 
had  been  eaten  up  to  the  stem.     "Thai's  his 


76  The  Captains  Bargain. 

picnic,"  said  Robert;  "that  is  his  table.     Isn't 
it  real  funny,  to  eat  your  table  ?" 

But  while  they  looked,  a  shrill  clatter  rose  in 
the  wood.  "  Oh  !  There's  a  jaybird  having  a 
show !  Let  me  go ! "  cried  the  new  Robin 
Hood.  And  off  he  stole,  quiet  as  a  squirrel  or 
rabbit,  through  the  brush,  in  the  direction  of  the 
sound.  He  came  to  where  a  tree  limb  reached 
over  a  little  clearing.  On  this  sat  a  bluejay, 
screaming  and  calling,  with  all  his  might.  In 
hot  haste,  at  this  summons,  came  the  birds  of 
the  wood,  and  seated  themselves  on  twigs  and 
branches.  The  wood-dove  rested  and  preened 
its  soft-gray  breast ;  the  robin  sat  with  big, 
round,  eager  eyes,  intent ;  the  kingbird  rufBed 
his  pert  crest ;  the  woodpecker  clung  to  a  trunk, 
and  held  back  his  head  in  a  suspended  "drum- 
ming stroke";  the  catbird  \\i  on  an  outmost 
bough ;  the  wren  and  titmouse  waited.  And 
now  the  bluejay's  audience  was  complete,  even 
to  the  watching  brown  eyes  of  the  little  boy, 
and  the  harlequin  bird  began  to  antic.  He 
erected  his  head  and  spread  his  wings.  He 
whirled,  he  bowed,  he  chattered,  he  lifted  his  tail, 
he  danced,  he  pecked,  he  clawed,  he  screamed. 
Now  he  seemed  a  frenzied  orator  in  the  midst 
of  his  wildest  flight ;  then  he  seemed  a  favorite 
clown,  exhibiting  in  the  ring;  again,  he  was  a 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  jj 

street  mountebank,  delighting  his  crowd.  At 
last,  the  jay  was  tired  out,  and  his  singular 
performance  was  over ;  the  bird  subsided  into 
calm,  and  looked  with  dignified  wonder  at  his 
beholders,  as  if  to  say,  "  Why  are  you  staring  at 
me  ?  "  The  bird-audience  had  bought  no  tickets 
of  admission  ;  they  gave  no  applause  ;  but  when 
all  was  over,  the  robin  flew  off  to  hunt  grubs, 
the  woodpecker  hammered  on  the  tree,  the  dove 
sought  her  nest  in  the  thickest  pine,  and  Rob- 
ert, full  of  admiration,  ran  back  to  tell  the 
schoolmaster.  "  Whenever  the  jaybird  calls  like 
that,  I  run  to  see  the  show,"  said  Robert. 

"  You  are  a  regular  little  woodsman,"  said 
the  schoolmaster.  "  When  you  come  to  school 
to  me,  I  will  show  you  books  about  birds  and 
flowers." 

"  I'm  coming  when  Pink  is  big  enough  to 
come  too,"  said  Robert.  "  Next  summer,  maybe. 
Father  says  he  will  teach  me  to  read  at  home,  first. 
Then  I  can  help  Pink,  when  she  don't  know 
anysing.  Jerry  is  going  to  make  us  some  let- 
ter-blocks. Jerry  tells  me  lots  of  sings.  Jerry 
knows  everysing,  most.  Jerry  is  going  to  make 
us  a  cart,  big  enough  to  hold  Bop,  and  a  keg, 
or  a  big  bag.  And  when  nuts  is  ripe  we  is 
going,  me,  and  Pink,  and  Jerry,  and  Hop,  up 
the   mountain,   for   lots  of  nuts.     We  has  to 


78  The  Captains  Bargain. 

take  care  of  Bop,  me  and  Jerry,  for  Bop  don't 
like  the  t'ins  being  in  his  cradle,  and  he  leans 
in  and  pulls  ze  t'ins'  noses.  The  wagon  Jerry  is 
going  to  make,  will  be  big  enough  for  ze  t'ins,  and 
next  summer  I  can  drag'  em'  round,  outdoors." 

The  making  of  the  letter-blocks  and  the 
wagon  by  Jerry,  caused  the  workshop  to  be  a 
very  interesting  place  to  all  the  children.  Jerry 
sawed  wheels  out  of  pieces  of  plank,  and  while 
he  was  making  the  body  of  the  cart,  or  sawing 
out  square  blocks,  whereon  to  paste  the  fruitful 
twenty-six  letters,  which  are  the  key  of  knowl- 
edge. Pink  and  Bop  amused  themselves  for 
hours,  rolling  the  wheels  across  the  shop  floor. 

Doubtless  the  twins,  sleeping  in  the  room  be* 
low,  supposed  themselves  dwelling  amid  per- 
petual low  thunders,  but  they  soon  became  used 
to  all  manner  of  noises. 

In  the  shop  Robert  much  preferred  conver- 
sation with  Jerry  to  play.  He  regarded  Jerry 
as  a  Fount  of  Wisdom.  There  was  no  question 
too  abstruse  to  be  laid  before  Jerry  ;  there  was 
none  so  abstruse  that  Jerry  would  not  boldly 
venture  an  answer.  As  may  have  been  gathered 
from  the  samples  of  Jerry's  conversation,  he 
was  a  philosopher.  There  are  great  advantages 
in  living  with  a  philosopher ;  Robert  reaped 
these  advantages. 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  79 

"Jerry,"  said  Robert,  '"does  it  make  you  feel 
bad  to  have  only  one  eye  ?  Don't  you  wish 
you  could  grow  another  eye  ? " 

'•  I  don't  mind,  I'm  used  to  it,"  said  Jerry, 
"  we  can  get  used  to  'most  anything  in  this 
world.  I've  heard  of  folks  sleeping  on  beds 
made  of  spikes,  or  nails,  till  their  skins  got  as 
tough  as  alligators'  hides — alligators  is  a  kind  of 
reptile  we  don't  have  in  this  creek.  And  then 
there  is  some  good  in  having  a  blind  side. 
When  I  was  at  school,  yonder,  and  the  boys 
undertook  to  jibe  and  jeer  me,  for  having  a 
wooden  leg,  going  about  noisy  and  pegging  the 
way  I  do,  somehow  it  always  happened  they  did 
it  on  the  blind  side  of  me,  and  so,  I  wasn't 
obliged  to  take  notice  and  fight  'em.  If  I'd 
seen  'em,  of  course  I'd  had  to  fight  'em — but 
somehow  all  them  little  pranks  was  on  my 
blind  side." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  any  blind  side,  Jerry,"  said 
Robert,  indignantly,  "  and  if  any  boys  make 
faces  at  you,  I'll  see  'em,  I  can't  help  seeing 
'em,  and  I'll  hit  'em  too.  You  see,  I'll  hit  'em 
with  both  fists,  just  as  hard  as  I  can  pound." 

"  All  right,  my  chicken,"  said  Jerry.  "  It  is 
always  proper  to  defend  other  folks,  though 
you  ain't  obliged  always  to  defend  yourself. 
Now   if    anybody  come   'round  jibing  at  the 


99  The  Captains  Bargain. 

ma'am,  anytime,  someway  it  would  be  sure  not 
te  be  on  my  blind  side.  Things  in  this  world 
is — cur'ous.  And  there's  another  good  in 
havin'  a  blind  side.  When  I  was  up  here  to 
school,  the  boys  used  to  break  the  rules,  pass- 
ing notes,  and  maybe  passing  along  a  handful 
of  peas,  to  flip,  or  a  pinch  of  pepper  to  put  on 
the  stove.  Such  things  always  come  along  to  my 
blind  side,  and  nat'rally  I  didn't  see  'em.  When 
I  goes  down  to  Lacy,  to  do  a  little  business, 
and  any  one  invites  me  into  a  bar  to  have  a 
glass  of  beer,  or  a  lemonade  with  a  stick  in  it, 
or  a  little  water  crooked,  why,  all  such  invites 
and  beckons  hits  me  on  the  blind  side,  and  I'ni 
not  supposed  to  see  'em." 

"  I  shouldn't  like  lemonade  with  sticks  nor 
crooked  water,"  interposed  Robert,  hesitantly. 

"  Of  course  not.  They're  bad.  Water  straight, 
?nd  lemonade  Simon  pure,  that's  your  ticket. 
Then  ag'in,  I'm  often  asked  by  men  and  lads  as 
Isang  'round  the  mill  here,  to  take  a  hand  at 
cards.  But  how  can  I  when  them  cards  is  al- 
ways on  the  side  of  my  blind  eye,  and  I  can't  tell 
\m  from  each  other ?  They  soon  found  I  was 
no  good  at  cards,  and  I  spoiled  all  the  games, 
^long  of  my  blind  eye.  Yes,  Robert,  a  blind 
side  is  some  good.  You  needn't  always  see  when 
somebody  slights  you,  or  mocks  you.     There's 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  8i 

lots  of  times  when  it's  uncommon  convenient — • 
a  blind  side." 

"  But  the  leg,  Jerry,  is  it  any  good  to  have  a 
wooden  leg?" 

"  Lots  of  good,  when  you  has  one,"  said  Jerry, 
cheerfully.  "  Why,  Robert,  you  look  here;  you 
can  get  cold  in  both  feet.  I  never  can  have  but 
one  cold  foot,  and  that  I  can  sit  on,  you  see,  if 
so  be  I  am  taking  a  long,  cold  ride  or  so.  Then, 
too,  when  folks  have  two  legs  there's  two  chances 
of  breaking  'em.  But  if  I  break  my  left  leg  it's 
easy  mended.  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  take  the 
axe  and  the  plane,  and  a  piece  of  wood,  and 
make  me  another.  Then  again,  one  pair  of 
shoes  to  me  is  two  pairs.  I  buys  'em  '  not  rights 
and  lefts.'  I  says,  '  Both  alike.'  So  one  pair  is 
two.  The  same  with  stockings.  It  don't  take 
near  so  much  to  make  me  trousers  as  it  does 
other  folks.  And  then,  I've  got  only  one  big 
toe  to  stub.  Also,  when  I  come  to  a  big  wet  or 
muddy  place,  what  do  I  do  ?  I  just  put  my  peg 
leg  in  the  middle  of  it,  reach  out  my  crutch,  and 
over  it  I  go  !  I  never  get  my  feet  wet.  How 
can  I  when  I  have  only  one  foot  ?  " 

"  Well,  then,  Jerry,  wouldn't  it  be  nice  if  all 
peoples  had  only  one  leg  ?  " 

"Well,  no,"  said  Jerry,  "there  ought  to  be  a 
good  many  two-legged  people  in  the  world,  for 


82  The  Captains  Bargain. 

there  are  things  only  two-legged  people  can  do. 
It  takes  a  two-legged  man  to  make  a  boot.  I 
says  all  these  things  in  favor  of  one  leg,  because 
I  have  only  one  leg,  and  it's  always  a  good  plan, 
Robert,  to  be  in  favor  of  what  you  have,  if  you 
can't  change  it.  If  I  fretted  no  end,  it  wouldn't 
grow  me  a  new  eye  or  a  new  leg,  so  what's  the 
use  of  fretting  ?  I'd  better  spend  my  ideas  in 
looking  up  the  good  of  what  I've  got." 

"  Jerry,  are  you  going  to  live  here  at  the  mill 
all  your  life  ?  "  asked  Robert. 

"  I  wish  I  might,"  said  Jerry,  heartily. 

"  But,  Jerry,  suppose,  suppose  the  mill  all 
burnt  up,  like  father  says  his  house  did  ?  Or, 
suppose  it  fell  down,  mower  says  she  believes 
it  will  some' day;  or,  suppose,  suppose  every- 
body died,  Jerry,  what  would  you  do  ? " 

"  Well,  then,  I'd  do  something  else.  There 
never  is  a  time,  Robert,  when  you  can't  do  some- 
thing else.  If  one  thing's  done,  another  comes 
on.  It's  like  the  garden,  Robert.  In  the  spring, 
early,  you  plant  lettuce,  but  the  time  comes 
when  the  lettuce  is  bitter  and  goes  to  seed  ;  but 
that's  just  the  time  when  you  can  haul  up  the 
lettuce  and  plant  your  turnips  for  Thanksgivin* 
in  the  lettuce-beds.  Now,  I  says  to  the  ma'am 
the  other  day,  '  What's  the  good  of  thinkin'  sup- 
pose we  can't  pay  the  interest  on  the  mortgage 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  83 

and  the  man  forecloses  it  ?  Why,  ain't  it  just  as 
good,'  I  says,  'to  keep  cheerful,  thinking  sup- 
pose we  can  pay  the  whole  mortgage  off,  and 
have  money  enough  over  to  build  a  new  mill  ? 
It's  as  easy  to  suppose  one  as  the  other,'  I  says, 
'and  it's  much  more  agreeable,'  and  the  ma'am 
she  allowed  I  was  about  right." 

"  Jerry,  what's  a  mortgage  ?  "  asked  Robert, 
eagerly. 

"  A  mortgage  ?"  said  the  philosopher,  "  a  mort- 
gage ?  Well,  a  mortgage — Robert,  what  is  that 
thing  under  the  bark  of  this  piece  of  wood  ? " 

Robert  looked. 

"  It's  a  worm,  Jerry,  eating  all  the  wood  into 
holes." 

"  Well,  Robert,  a  mortgage  is  a  big  worm 
eatin'  all  a  piece  of  property  into  holes." 

"  Dear  me,"  said  Robert,  looking  up  at 
the  mill  roof.  "  So  there  are  holes,  Jerry ; 
how  did  there  come  to  be  a  mortgage  on  the 
mill  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid,"  said  Jerry,  "  it  got  there  because 
the  Cap'n's  father  had  what  are  called  drinking 
habits,  Robert,  drinking  habits." 

"  And,  Jerry,  what's  drinking  habits  ?  " 

"  Drinking  habits,"  said  Jerry,  sandpapering  a 
letter-block,  "  are  a  big  worm  eating  out  a  man's 
good  sense,  and  his  good  health,  and  his  good 


84  The  Captains  Bargain. 

feelings,  and  his  good  fortune,  and  all  that's  good 
about  him." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Robert.  "I  hope  father 
v!on*t  have  any  drinking  habits." 

"  No  more  he  don't,"  said  Jerry.  "  I  have 
often  seen,  Robert,  a  right  wise  woodpecker, 
with  a  nest  full  of  young  ones  to  feed,  settle 
herself  on  a  tree  where  there  was  such  a  worm 
as  this,  and  drive  a  peck  straight  home  in  the 
right  spot,  and  out  with  that  same  worm,  and 
siwe  that  tree." 

Which  was  a  parable. 

"  There's  father  coming  down  the  road  with 
the  schoolmaster ! "  cried  Robert,  clambering 
down  from  the  work-bench,  and  flying  to  meet 
Captain  'Zekiel. 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  this  brave  little  man," 
said  the  schoolmaster,  as  Captain  'Zekiel  wel- 
comed the  boy,  with  a  shout. 

"  So  I  am,"  said  the  Captain.  "  He's  cost 
me  something — a  deal  more  than  I  knew  at  the 
t'me.  I'll  say  it  to  you,  schoolmaster,  because 
1  often  have  said  to  you,  that  you  drew  it  too 
\  'mrp  on  Temperance.  When  I  brought  him 
lu>me,  'Liza  she  took  a  shrewd  woman's  ad- 
V  mtage.  *  The  child  or  the  bottle,  'Zekiel ;  take 
}  )ur  choice.'  That  was  the  gist  of  what  she 
laid  down.  '  Can  I  throw  away  such  a  child  as 
that,'  I  says  to  myself,  '  for  the  sake   of  an 


Living  with  a  Philosopher.  85 

appetite?'  Well — I  gave  my  word — and  'Ze- 
kiel  Allen's  word  is  a  thing  he  don't  take  back. 
Then  the  tug  came  in.  I  never  knew  how  I 
loved  that  bottle,  nor  what  a  hold  it  had  of  me, 
till  I  gave  it  up.  Then  I  knew.  I  tell  you, 
schoolmaster,  it  was  a  pull.  I  never  was  one 
of  your  boys.  I  left  school  before  your  time. 
I'm  glad  you  are  raising  the  boys  now,  so  they 
won't  get  so  slaved  by  a  bottle  as  I  was,  with- 
out knowing  it.  Well,  I  think  the  fight  is  done. 
And  it's  made  me  more  of  a  man.  I  said  I 
never  drank  to  hurt.  But  now  I  know  that 
I've  got  clearer  ideas,  and  a  lighter  feeling  all 
through  me,  and  look  ahead  more  for  my  chil- 
dren, and  enjoy  myself  more,  and  appreciate 
'Liza  Allen  more,  and  set  a  better  example  to 
Jerry,  and  am  a  decenter  person  for  these  little 
shavers  to  hang  'round,  since  I  gave  up  that  bot- 
tle. Yes,  the  boy,  though  he  doesn't  know  it, 
made  a  man  of  me." 

"  It  was  nobly  done,  liberally,  generously  done, 
and  it  is  written,  '  The  liberal  soul  shall  be  made 
fat,'  "  said  the  schoolmaster. 

And  no  doubt  this  was  true  to  the  Captain. 
Certainly  he  was  none  the  less  happy,  when  he 
and  Eliza  sat  by  the  stove  in  the  evening,  each 
one  with  a  twin,  to  see  three  little  white-arrayed 
figures  kneeling  in  a  row  by  the  trundle-bed,  to 
say,  "  Now  I  lay  me." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE    SUPERINTENDENT. 

A  WELL-KNOWN  figure  in  the  township  of 
Lai's  Mountain  was  "  Superintendent  Murray." 
He  had  come  from  New  York  to  take  charge 
of  the  interests  of  several  stock  companies,  and 
was  vaguely  called  "the  Superintendent."  The 
Superintendent  was  looked  up  to  as  a  rich  man. 
There  were  wonderful  tales  of  the  rapidity  with 
which  he  made  money  :  the  good  fortune  which 
attended  all  his  investments,  the  amount  of 
money  which  he  laid  up  every  week,  which  was 
more  than  most  of  the  people  thereabouts  laid 
up  in  a  year.  Indeed,  lucky  was  he  in  this 
neighborhood  who  did  not  fall  behind  in  his 
finances  each  year.  While  looked  up  to  for  his 
supposed  riches,  "  the  Superintendent "  was 
feared,  and  whispered  about,  as  a  man  who 
lived  in  a  settled  gloom,  held  himself  apart 
from  people,  scarcely  spoke,  except  in  the  brief- 
est terms  on  necessary  business,  and  took  no 
interest  in  anything,  not  even  in  his  own  for- 
tunes. 

(86) 


The  Superintendent,  %j- 

The  Superintendent  was  not  yet  a  middle- 
aged  man  ;  but  his  hair  was  white,  his  shoulders 
were  listlessly  bent,  his  face  was  wrinkled  and 
thin.  He  bore  the  marks  of  a  man  who  had 
been  shipwrecked  in  some  of  the  sharpest  storms 
of  life.  He  was  supposed  to  be  a  very  learned 
man  ;  he  had  books  and  long  shelves  of  min- 
erals, and  the  country  people  said  that  magic 
witch-haze  wands  were  as  nothing  compared  to 
that  magic  of  learning,  whereby  "  the  Superin- 
tendent "  could  read  the  surface  of  the  soil,  and 
assay  the  rocks,  and  could  tell  what  metals  or 
minerals  might  lie  beneath  the  mosses  and  the 
grasses,  the  hepaticas  and  the  anemones.  The 
schoolmaster  was  the  only  person  who  had  any- 
thing approaching  to  an  intimacy  with  "  the 
Superintendent."  The  ground  of  their  acquaint- 
ance was  that  the  schoolmaster  had  studied  the 
county  for  twenty  years,  and  knew  every  growth, 
and  every  soil,  and  every  rock  that  could  be 
found  in  it.  He  was  passing  wise  as  to  coal 
fields,  measures,  veins,  deposits,  and  basins  ;  as 
to  ridges,  troughs,  dips,  faults,  beds,  strata,  splits, 
flaws,  axes,  synclinals,  monoclinals,  verticals, 
flexures,  and  anticlinals — in  fact,  ordinary  peo- 
ple would  need  to  have  a  Webster's  unabridged 
in  hand,  and  a  few  Worcesters  and  Johnsons 
for  reference,  if  they  wished  to  fully  understand 


8S  The  Captains  Bargain, 

what  "  the  Superintendent "  and  the  schoolmas- 
ter said,  as  they  sat  on  a  fallen  tree,  or  a  couple 
of  commodious  boulders. 

Both  of  these  men  loved  nature :  the  school- 
master loved  nature  for  the  pleasing  satisfaction 
of  a  curiosity,  for  filling  up  the  gaps  that  occur- 
red in  his  life,  and  for  lifting  him  up  above  the 
region  of  daily  small  cares  and  vexations.  The 
Superintendent  loved  nature  as  his  last  left  re- 
source, and  that  which  saved  him  from  insanity. 
He  could  not  endure  the  face  of  his  fellow-men, 
and  the  soothing  of  nature  kept  him  from  mad- 
ness or  suicide.  In  the  winter,  the  Superintend- 
ent went  to  Lacy,  or  to  the  solitude  of  one  of 
the  great  cities,  where  next  to  a  desert  a  man 
can  be  most  alone.  In  the  summer,  he  made 
his  headquarters  in  a  little  four-room  chalet  he 
had  built  in  the  highest  and  woodiest  part  of 
the  mountain.  There  he  was  served  by  a  deaf- 
mute,  of  about  twenty,  who  seemed  useful, 
contented,  and  fond  of  his  master.  "  Would 
you  like  to  be  deaf  and  dumb,  Jerry  ? "  Robert 
had  asked,  when  he  had  seen  this  youth,  and 
been  made  to  understand  his  condition. 

"  Well,  I'll  allow,"  said  Jerry,  "  I'm  uncom- 
mon fond  of  wagging  my  tongue,  but  maybe 
if  I'd  been  born  dumb,  and  so  wasn't  used  to 
talking,   I  could  do  very  well  without.     You 


The  Superintendent.  89 

see,  Robert,  there's  lots  of  advantages  in  being 
deaf  and  dumb.  There's  two  of  the  command- 
ments you  can't  break — the  swearing  command- 
nic;nt,  and  the  lying  one.  And  that's  a  help, 
seeing  humans  finds  it  such  a  powerful  strain  on 
'em  to  keep  the  commandments.  Moreover, 
you  can't  get  yourself  into  trouble  by  speaking 
ill  of  folks ;  you  can't  make  folks  mad  by  sass- 
ing  them  ;  you  can't  listen  to  people's  secrets, 
and  tell  'em.  .Yes,  Robert,  I'll  allow  there's  a 
deal  of  good  in  being  born  deaf  and  dumb; 
only,  when  you  are  not  born  that  way,  you're 
bound  to  be  thankful  according." 

The  occasion  of  these  remarks  was  a  July 
afternoon,  the  second  summer  of  Robert's  living 
at  the  mill.  The  place,  oddly  enough,  was  the 
sitting-room  of  Mr.  Murray's  chalet,  where 
Jerry,  Robert,  and  Pink  were  in  full  possession, 
the  tall  deaf-mute  standing  in  the  doorway,  and 
regarding  them  with  interest.  How  this  hap- 
pened was  in  this  wise.  Berries  were  abundant 
on  the  mountain,  and  Mrs.  'Liza  had  arranged 
that  Jerry  and  the  two  children  should  go  for 
three  days  in  succession  to  pick  the  berries. 
Each  night  they  came  down  with  three  well-filled 
pails,  and  Mrs.  'Liza  dried  some  of  the  fruit  for 
pies,  and  made  the  rest  into  jam  for  winter. 
But   on   the   afternoon  of   the   third   day  the 


90  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

astute  Jerry  beheld  a  fierce  storm  sweeping  along 
the  gorges  of  the  hills — thunder  roared,  and 
lightning  played  in  the  distance,  and  the  storm 
drew  nearer.  It  was  necessary  to  get  the  children 
and  the  nearly  filled  pails  into  shelter.  They 
hurried  along,  and  as  the  storm  broke  in  fury, 
they  reached  the  oval  clearing  where  stood  Mr. 
Murray's  eyrie,  and  in  hurried  Jerry,  dragging 
his  breathless  charges.  The  Superintendent  was 
not  at  home.  The  mute  made  them  welcome 
by  signs,  and  his  silence  had  at  once  to  be 
explained  by  Jerry  to  the  anxious  Robert. 
Just  at  this  moment,  the  powerful  beat  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  mingled  with  the  roar  of  wind  and 
thunder,  and  the  swirl  of  rain,  and  the  Super- 
intendent came  tearing  up  the  mountain  road, 
on  his  big  roan.  He  flung  himself  upon  the 
little  veranda,  and  the  well-trained  brute  raced 
'round  to  the  open  door  of  his  stable.  Mr. 
Murray,  to  his  surprise,  found  three  big  tin 
pails  full  of  berries  standing  under  his  long 
table  of  geological  specimens,  a  one-legged, 
one-eyed  boy  sitting  on  the  window-seat,  and 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  Robert  and  Pink, 
standing  hand  in  hand.  For  the  first  time  since 
it  was  built,  the  cottage  had  guests  !  The  mute 
explained  the  situation  to  his  master  by  signs. 
Robert  watched  the  performance  eagerly.     But 


The  Superintendent.  91 

with  his  native  refinement  he  felt  that  permis- 
sion to  remain  should  be  asked  by  the  intruders 
themselves.  He  walked  up  to  Mr.  Murray, 
looked  him  straight  in  the  eyes,  and  said  :  "  I  ' 
hope  you  like  us  to  be  here.  We  would  pretty 
near  drown  out  in  the  rain,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  yes,  child,"  began  Mr.  Murray,  when 
there  was  a  tremendous  peal  of  thunder  that 
shook  the  cottage.  Pink  gave  a  wild  scream, 
but  Robert  set  his  lips  and  stood  like  a  young 
hero.  He  braced  his  little  body  for  the  onset 
Pink  made  upon  him,  folded  his  arms  about 
her,  hid  her  face  in  his  small  jacket,  and  said 
valiantly,  "  Never  mind.  Pink  !  I  won't  let  it 
hurt  you  !  I'll  take  care  of  you.  Pink  !  Noth- 
ing can  hurt  you  when  I'm  holding  you." 

"Whose  children  are  these?"  asked  Mr. 
Murray. 

"  Cap'n  Allen's,"  said  Jerry.  "  I'm  the  Cap'n's 
Hands." 

"  Yes  ;  I've  seen  you  before,  at  the  mill.  Well, 
that  is  a  fine  boy  !  So  you  are  not  afraid,  my 
little  fellow  ?  " 

Robert  looked  at  him  with  a  fine  expression 
of  pride. 

"  Mens  is  never  afraid.  Womens  is  afraid, 
but  not  mens.     I  always  take  care  of  Pink." 

Mr.  Murray  sat  down  and  beckoned  the  chil- 


93  The  Captains  Bargain. 

dren  to  him.  He  took  a  hand  of  each.  Rob- 
ert's hands  were  reddened  with  berry  juice,  and 
thoroughly  scratched.  Pink's  were  red,  so  was 
her  mouth — but  her  scratches  were  few.  "  I 
think,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "  that  you  have  picked 
most  of  your  sister's  berries  for  her." 

"  Oh,  well,  Pink's  little.  And  then  Pink  did 
put  some  in  the  pail,"  said  Robert. 

"  And  more  in  her  mouth.  But  nearly  all 
yours  went  into  the  pail." 

"  We  want  to  take  such  a  lot  down  to  mother. 
We  eat  so  much  jam.  Next  winter  we  shall  eat 
loads  of  jam,  for  the  t'ins  is  getting  big  enough 
to  have  it." 

Robert  was  losing  some  of  his  crooked  speech, 
but  to  him  "  the  t'ins  "  long  remained  "  the  t'ins." 

"  How  many  are  there  of  you?"  asked  Mr. 
Murray. 

Robert  counted  on  his  fingers,  "  Father,  moth- 
er, Jerry,  Pink,  me,  Bop,  one  t'in,  'nother  t'in, 
six." 

Mr.  Murray  sighed. 

"Haven't  you  any  little  boys  and  gells?" 
asked  Robert  gently. 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head,  and  looked 
gloomily  at  the  storm. 

"  When  we  went  down  in  the  barge  this 
summer,"  said    Robert,   "  I    saw   lots   of  very 


The  Superintendent.  93 

pretty  little  boys  and  gells  in  the  street — and 
they  had  rags,  and  nobody  tooked  any  care  of 
them,  and  they  was  so  poor — why  don't  you  go 
and  buy  some  of  them  ?" 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head. 

"  Haven't  you  any  money?"  asked  Robert, 
timidly.  "  When  father  don't  get  things,  it  is 
because  he  hasn't  any  money.  I'm  going  to 
sell  some  berries  next  week,  to  Mrs.  Britt,  and 
all  the  eggs  of  my  little  hen,  and  I'm  going  to 
pay  father's  mortgage  with  it.  A  mortgage,  you 
know,  is — a — a  big  worm  that  eats  holes  in  the 
wood  of  our  house — and — and  it  has  to  be  paid 
to  stop — only — Jerry  has  seen  a  woodpecker—" 
he  hesitated,  reading  unqualified  amazement  in 
his  host's  sad  gray  eyes.  He  looked  anxiously 
toward  Jerry.  "  Jerry,  I  hope  you  only  told  me 
what's  so — for — for  I  believe  you,  Jerry." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jerry,  "  I  told  you  what  is  so — 
only  as  you  may  say,  I  put  it  in  parables,  and 
I'll  allow  I've  made  a  mess  of  it." 

"  It  is  all  right,  I  understand,"  said  Mr.  Murray, 
passing  his  hand  slowly  over  Robert's  brown 
curls,  which  were  'Liza's  pride.  The  good  wom- 
an would  have  sat  up  nights  to  make  time  to 
dress  Robert's  beautiful  hair,  rather  than  shear 
her  little  Samson. 

"  This  is  a  beautiful  house,"  said  Robert ; 


94  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  our  house  has  only  two  rooms  in  it.  Jerry 
has  a  little  room  off  the  shop.  We  are  pretty 
snug,  father  says,  but  when  he  gets  rich  he  will 
build  a  house.  Bop  and  me  we  has  a  trundle- 
bed  in  the  kitchen,  and  Pink  and  the  t'ins  has  a 
trundle-bed  in  the  other  room  ;  and  father  made 
the  trundle-beds,  and  he  says  he  don't  mind, 
he'd  as  lief  make  six.  I  don't  know  where  he'd 
stand  six,  do  you,  Jerry  ? "  But  Jerry  had 
quietly  rolled  out  of  the  window,  and  gone  to 
the  extremity  of  the  veranda — Robert's  appeals 
were  too  personal. 

"  This  house  has  very  pretty  things,"  said 
Robert ;  "  may  we  look  at  your  things  ?  Then 
I  can  tell  mother  how  pretty  they  are." 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  and  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  he  spread  his  kerchief  over 
his  face,  as  if  asleep.  Robert  passed  slowly 
about  the  room,  and  then  through  the  open 
door  into  the  next  room.  He  held  Pink  by 
the  hand,  and  looked  with  smiling  interest  at 
the  various  little  conveniences,  and  ornaments, 
and  instruments  which  were  new  to  him.  He 
not  only  did  not  touch  anything,  but  he  did  not 
even  stand  very  near  any  object,  and  if  Pink  so 
much  as  held  out  a  small  dimpled  finger  in  ad- 
miration, he  repressed  her,  by  pressing  her  hand 
down,  and  saying,  "  Don't  touch.  Pink." 


The  Superintendent.  95 

All  at  once  Mr.  Murray  sprung  up,  and  made 
a  dash  into  the  room  where  they  were.  "  The 
gun  is  loaded  !  I  was  afraid  you  might  handle 
it ! "  he  exclaimed,  in  answer  to  Robert's  look  of 
question. 

"  It's  your  gun.  We  wouldn't  touch  your 
things,  you  know,"  said  Robert. 

"  You  are  a  well-brought-up  child,"  said  Mr. 
Murray,  and  going  into  another  room  he  came 
back  with  a  tray  of  bread  and  butter,  cold 
tongue,  jelly,  milk,  the  various  products  of  his 
mute's  housekeeping,  and  sat  down  with  the 
children  for  a  luncheon.  Robert  ate  his  rather 
uneasily,  and  his  big  brown  eyes  rolled  toward 
Jerry's  corner  of  the  veranda.  Mr.  Murray 
filled  a  plate  and  took  it  to  Jerry,  and  then 
Robert's  content  seemed  complete. 

When  the  storm  was  over,  Mr.  Murray  had 
his  horse  brought  round  and  mounted  it,  taking 
Robert  on  one  knee  and  Pink  on  the  other,  to 
carry  them  down  the  mountain.  When  they 
were  nearly  down,  they  met  Captain  Allen 
coming  up. 

"  I  was  away,"  he  said,  "  and  as  soon  as  I  got 
back  I  hurried  after  them  ;  the  missis  is  in  a 
great  state,  though  Jerry  is  good  as  gold."  He 
held  up  his  arms  and  Mr.  Murray  gave  him 
Pink  ;  then,  much  more  reluctantly,  he  handed 


g6  The  Captains  Bargain. 

over  Robert.  "  I  envy  you  that  little  man,"  he 
said.     "  How  old  is  he  ?  " 

"  About  six.     Aren't  you,  Robert  ?  " 

Robert  nodded.  He  was  any  age  they  chose 
to  make  him. 

A  week  or  so  later,  Mr.  Murray  and  the 
schoolmaster  were  sitting  on  a  log  not  far  from 
the  mill.  The  Superintendent  was  waiting  for 
Captain  Allen  ;  he  had  come  to  order  a  few 
boards,  and  had  fallen  in  with  the  schoolmaster. 

*'  If  you  do  not  wish  to  wait,"  said  the  master, 
'*  speak  to  Mrs.  Allen.  She  is  the  real  head  of 
the  business  ;  she  does  all  the  measuring  and  cal- 
culating, and  tells  'Zekiel  what  bargains  to  make. 
The  Captain  is  the  poorest  possible  hand  at 
figures." 

"  I  don't  mind  waiting,"  said  the  Superintend- 
ent. "  It  is  worth  while  to  see  that  boy  play. 
With  what  a  will  he  goes  at  it,  and  takes  the 
other  children  all  into  his  games,  even  to  those 
two  babies  sittmg  in  the  little  cart.  He  is  a 
splendid  child.     I  envy  Captain  Allen." 

"And,  no  doubt,  in  some  respects,  he  envies 
you.  He  is  burdened  with  debts,  and  one  mis- 
fortune after  another  prevents  his  making  any 
headway.  No  doubt  he  thinks  you  a  very  for- 
tunate man.     All  do  about  here." 

"  I  should  think  they  would  know  better  if 


The  Superintendent.  97 

they  look  at  me,"  said  the  Superintendent, 
touching  his  white  hair  and  lined  face.  "  Arc 
these  the  footprints  of  joy  ? " 

"  People  struggling  with  poverty  are  apt  to 
measure  happiness  by  wealth,"  said  the  master. 
"  I  don't  think  Allen  does." 

'•  He  need  not.  He  has  a  wife  and  children, 
and  a  home." 

'*  And  you  have  none  ? "  ventured  the  school- 
master. 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head. 

"  You  are  young  yet,"  said  the  master ;  "  all 
these  possibilities  are  open  to  you.  I  do  not 
know  but  the  man  who  can  maintain  a  family, 
owes  it  to  the  good  of  his  age  and  of  his  country 
to  raise  such  a  family." 

"  I  had,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "  a  wife  and  child. 
I  lost  them.  I  cannot  reconstruct  a  home  on 
the  grave  of  the  past.  When  I  stood  by  my 
wife's  coffin,  I  knew  that  all  for  me  had  ended. 
Since  then  I  do  not  live, — I  exist." 

The  schoolmaster  was  not  of  those  who  offer 
idle  words  to  sorrow.  He  knew  how  to  be 
silent. 

"That  child — that  boy — recalls  to  me  what 
my  child  might  have  been.  And  so,  I  have 
spoken.  It  is  not  my  way  to  speak.  He  was 
at  my  house  the  other  day,  and  since  then  I  have 


gS  The  Captairis  Bargain. 

thought,  day  and  night,  how  full  my  life  might 
have  been  of  energy  and  hope  and  joy,  if  I  had 
such  a  son.  Since  1  lost  mine,  fate,  as  if  in 
irony,  has  given  me  money  instead  of  wife  and 
child.  I  gather  carelessly,  without  interest  in  it. 
T  invest  heedlessly,  as  one  who  does  not  care  to 
prosper,  and  while  the  eager  and  the  needy  lose, 
I  gain.  I  gain  money  which  I  neither  need,  nor 
use,  nor  desire,  nor  rejoice  in.  There  is  a  verse 
in  the  Scripture  :  '  There  is  one  alone,  and  there 
is  not  a  second ;  yea,  he  hath  neither  child  nor 
brother ;  yet  there  is  no  end  of  all  his  labor ; 
neither  is  his  eye  satisfied  with  riches ;  neither 
saith  he,  for  whom  do  I  labor,  and  bereave  my 
soul  of  good  ?  This  also  is  vanity,  yea,  it  is  also 
a  sore  travail.' " 

"  You  might,  at  least,  have  the  satisfac 
tion  of  doing  good  with  it,"  said  the  school 
master. 

"  I  might,  but  I  suppose  I  am  of  a  selfish  na- 
ture. I  only  care  to  lavish  on  what  is  my  own, 
on  what  I  love." 

"  You  can,  perhaps,  cultivate  a  wider  love," 
said  the  master.  "  Such  has  grown  in  me.  I 
am  willing  now  to  spend  my  thought  and  care 
ror  these  people.  They  and  all  their  interests 
a/'e  dear  to  me.     My  pupils  are  my  children." 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head. 


The  Superintendent.  99 

"  '  You  speak  that  never  had  a  child.'  Still, 
you  labor  to  more  profit  than  I  do.  You  deal 
with  hearts  and  brains ;  I  deal  with  stones. 
Schoolmaster  !  Whatever  you  do,  teach  your 
pupils  temperance  !  Day  by  day  teach  it,  preach 
it,  commend  it,  weave  it  with  every  lesson,  build 
it  into  the  very  fabric  of  their  brains.  If  you 
leave  that  untaught,  you  spend  your  labor  for 
that  which  satisfieth  not ! " 

Mr.  Murray  rose,  and  stood  before  the  sur 
prised  schoolmaster. 

"  I  have  heard  that  Allen  drank  once.  When 
that  child  comes  into  your  school,  teach  him 
temperance  day  by  day.  Render  it  impossible 
that  the  demon  of  intemperance  may  ever  curse 
and  blight  a  child  of  so  much  promise  !  Here 
am  I — I  had  good  birth,  good  breeding,  educa- 
tion, fortune,  friends,  family,  home,  hope,  hap- 
piness— I  stand  here  before  you,  scorched  and 
blasted,  ruined,  hopeless,  miserable.  All  because 
when  they  taught  me  so  many  other  things  they 
failed  to  teach  me  temperance.  I  have  learned 
it  too  late,  when  all  is  lost.  What  good  is  it 
now  to  hate  and  loathe  and  reprobate  the  devil 
that  drove  me  to  destruction  ?  Save  your  boys, 
schoolmaster  ;  and,  above  all,  save  this  boy  of 
Allen's  ! " 

He  turned,  and  began  to  hurry  away. 


lOO  The  Captains  Bargain.  ^^\ 

"  Come  back,  you  have  not  seen  Captain 
Allen  !  "  cried  the  schoolmaster. 

But  the  Superintendent  paid  no  heed  to  him. 
He  plunged  into  the  woods,  and  as  he  went  he 
thrust  into  his  breast-pocket  a  handful  of  wild 
asters  that  Robert  had  picked  for  him. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE     SCHOOLMASTER. 

The  Superintendent  never  resumed  the  con- 
fidence he  had  begun  to  the  schoolmaster,  as 
they  sat  near  the  mill.  As  it  was  the  first,  so 
it  was  the  last  unveiling  of  his  inner  life.  It 
had  been  one  of  those  sudden  expansions  of 
which  even  the  most  reticent  of  natures  now 
and  again  feel  the  need — and  of  which  they 
always  repent.  The  Superintendent  shut  him- 
self up  in  greater  reserve  than  ever. 

But  the  schoolmaster  did  not  forget.  He 
had  been  very  greatly  surprised,  and  he  often 
recurred  to  what  the  Superintendent  had  spoken. 
Mr.  Murray  bore  none  of  the  physical  or  men- 
tal marks  of  a  man  that  had  ever  indulged  in  in- 
toxicants. In  what  way  had  the  fier}^  breath  of 
the  demon  swept  over  him,  and  seared  and  blast- 
ed all  his  life  ? 

But  while  making  no  more  revelations  of 
himself.  Mr.  Murray  did  not  relax  his  interest 
in  Robert.  The  child  fascinated  him.  Instead 
of  going  to  his  lonely  cottage  by  a  bridle-path 

(lOl) 


I02  The  Captains  Bargain. 

which  few  ever  traversed,  he  now  went  and 
came  by  the  road  which  passed  the  mill.  He 
always  stopped  and  spoke  to  Robert,  and  often 
took  the  boy  up  before  him,  and  let  him  have 
a  ride,  even  going  several  times  up  and  down 
the  same  quarter  of  a  mile,  that  the  child's  ride 
might  be  longer.  This  was  fine.  But  Robert's 
joy  was  modified  by  the  fact  that  while  he  rode 
away  in  state,  like  a  Prince  in  a  Fairy  Tale, 
Pink  and  Bop  and  the  twins  were  left  on  com- 
mon ground,  and  often  roaring  lustily.  That 
was  more  than  he  could  stand. 

"  I  likes  the  ride,"  he  said,  finally,  looking 
Mr.  Murray  squarely  in  the  face,  as  was  his 
wont  in  speaking.  "  But,  I  guess,  I'd  better 
stay  on  the  ground,  with  them." 

"  Why  cannot  you  have  your  ride  in  peace, 
even  if  they  are  crying?"  said  the  Superin- 
tendent. 

Robert  lifted  his  steadfast  gaze  to  the  speak- 
er's face.   "  Because,  I  loves  'em,"  he  said  simply. 

Such  love  as  this  Mr.  Murray  thought  would 
be  well  worth  the  v»nnning.  The  possession  of 
a  child  like  Robert  would  add  a  joy  to  life,  and 
make  it  a  pleasant  thing  to  live.  To  gain  Rob- 
ert's love  he  redoubled  his  attentions.  He 
brought  the  child  presents.  First,  a  pocket  full 
of  bright  marbles.  Those  were  kept  in  a  drawer, 


The  Schoolmaster.  103 

and  only  looked  at  and  handled  occasionally. 
Because  if  the  boy  played  with  them  on  the 
floor,  Bop  and  the  twins  might  be  choked  in 
ineffectual  efforts  to  eat  them.  Next  he  re- 
ceived a  beautiful  red  and  green  ball,  of  India- 
rubber.  But  Bop  flung  that  into  the  creek, 
and  it  went  bobbing  away  down  the  stream, 
like  some  bright  Httle  buoy  that  had  drifted 
from  its  anchorage.  Often  Mr.  M urray  stooped 
from  his  horse  to  put  candies,  apples,*  oranges, 
picture-books  into  Robert's  uplifted  hands. 

The  men  who  were  driving  a  wagon  for  the 
Superintendent,  left  one  day  at  the  mill  a  splen- 
did rocking-horse,  with  red  and  gilt  caparisons 
and  flowing  tail.  When  winter  came,  there  came 
also  a  handsome  red  sled,  with  a  big  blue  R  upon 
it.  Jerry  made  a  box  for  this  sled,  and  Robert 
was  more  than  happy  dragging  Pink  and  Bop 
about  in  the  snow.  Christmas  brought  a  blue 
cap  with  a  gilt  cord,  a  pair  of  mittens  with  fur 
tops,  and  a  fur  collar.  The  congregation  at  the 
school-house  said  it  was  "  clean  extravagance 
the  way  'Zekiel  Allen  dressed  out  that  boy." 
But,  in  fact.  Captain  Ezekiel  would  have  been 
better  pleased  if  the  gifts  had  not  come.  In 
his  secret  heart  he  hoped  that  by  spring  Mr. 
Murray  would  have  lost  his  interest  in  the  long- 
unseen  Robert. 


I04  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

But  spring  brought  back  Mr.  Murray — and 
with  him  a  soldier's  outfit — a  drum,  sash,  sword, 
trumpet,  and  toy  gun  for  Robert.  There  was 
not  an  item  for  any  of  the  others  ;  but  that  did 
not  matter,  for  Pink  pounded  the  drum,  and 
Bop  blew  the  trumpet,  and  Robert  made  flags 
for  each  of  the  twins  to  carry,  and  the  joyful 
procession  marched  up  and  down  before  the 
mill,  deploying,  wheeling,  right  flank  !  left 
flank  !  fo'rward,  march  !  charge  !  in  grand  style. 
They  were  very  happy  with  the  new  toys,  but 
(Captain  'Zekiel  felt  a  jealous  suspicion  of  them. 
It  was  not  that  his  own  children  got  none — oh, 
T.o  ;  but  that  the  presents  were  evidently  meant 
to  bribe  the  love  of  Robert. 

"  The  Superintendent  is  rich,"  he  said  one 
evening  when  Robert  rushed  in,  triumphant, 
waving  a  "Jack  the  Giant-Killer  "  with  glaring 
I  ictures.    "  He  can  give  you  more  than  I  can." 

"  But  he  isn't  you,  father  ! "  said  Robert,  dis- 
cerning with  prescient  love  the  secret  pain,  and 
slipping  in  between  the  Captain's  knees  and 
1  aning  back  on  his  breast,  "  he's  only  another 
Man. 

"  Aye,  but  he  wants  to  make  you  love  hirrt 
riore  than  you  do  us,"  said  the  jealous  Captain. 
'•  If  he  had  you  up  to  his  house  he  could  give 
you  a  pocket  full  of  trinkets  every  day." 


The  Schoolmaster.  105 

"  But  he  couldn't  give  me  Pink,"  said  Robert, 
"  and  he  didn't  make  my  trundle-bed  ;  you  did." 

"  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  'Liza,  sewing  with  tenfold 
energy.  "  The  Superintendent  wants  to  take 
Robert  from  us." 

"  But  he  couldn't  !  "  cried  Robert.  "  You 
wouldn't  let  him,  mother  !  You  won't  let  him 
have  me  or  Pink  or  Bop,  or  any  of  us !  " 

For  the  time  had  not  only  passed  when  Rob- 
ert feared  that  he  would  be  sent  away,  but  he 
had  now  no  realizing  sense  that  he  belonged  to 
the  household  any  less  than  Pink  and  the  others. 
And  it  had  faded  out  of  his  mind  that  Captain 
'Zekiel  had  found  him,  a  forlorn,  weeping  stray, 
abandoned  by  a  tramp,  on  the  roadside.  He 
realized,  however,  that  the  Captain  and  Eliza 
were  jealous  of  the  attentions  and  caresses  of 
Mr.  Murray,  and  that  made  him  more  shy  with 
the  Superintendent.  He  did  not  now  always  run 
out  with  a  shout  of  welcome  when  he  heard  the 
hoofs  of  the  tall  roan.  He  could  not  be  less 
than  gracious  and  attractive,  for  that  was  his 
nature,  but  Mr.  Murray  saw  that  he  made  no 
progress  with  the  child.  The  Superintendent 
had  a  disposition  that  demanded  all  or  nothing. 
If  Robert  had  learned  to  love  him  more  than 
any  one  else,  had  been  willing  to  go  away  and  live 
with  him,  and  never  return  to  his  home  at  the 


io6  The  Captain^s  Bargain. 

mill,  that  would  have  pleased  Mr.  Murray.  He 
would  not  have  considered  that  such  an  abandon- 
ment of  his  family  argued  a  less  steadfast  and 
faithful  nature  than  it  would  be  good  to  see. 
He  wondered  at  his  own  craving  fondness  for 
Robert.  He  said  to  himself,  and  once  or  twice 
at  the  mill  to  Captain  Allen,  "  That  boy  ought 
to  be  mine";  "  If  I  had  that  boy  I'd  do  well  by 
him  ";  "  If  I  had  a  son  he  would  be  like  that." 
When,  the  next  summer,  he  used  to  meet  Rob- 
ert and  Pink  trudging  to  the  red  school-house, 
Robert  carrying  the  little  lunch-basket  and  the 
books  of  both,  never  thinking  of  asking  Pink  to 
carry  anything,  Mr.  Murray  would  indulge  in  a 
dream  about — if  the  boy  were  his  what  he  would 
do  for  him,  what  an  education  he  would  give 
him,  what  heights  he  might  gain.  He  could  not 
resist  the  temptation  of  stopping  now  and  then 
at  the  school-house  to  hear  Robert  read,  which 
he  did  with  notably  less  sing-song  than  the  other 
children,  or  to  see  him  "  spell  down  "  his  class  in 
words  of  four  or  five  letters  ;  or  even  to  hear  him 
"  speak  a  piece  "  on  Wednesday  afternoons. 

"  That  is  a  very  bright  child,"  he  said  to  the 
schoolmaster  ;  "  quite  worth  teaching.  He  is 
worth  all  the  rest  of  the  lot  put  together." 

And  Mr.  Murray  glanced  with  indifference  at 
the  other  pupils.     He  was  not  one  of  those  who 


The  Schoohnaster.  107 

regard  with  respect  and  interest  the  young  heir 
of  immortality  wherever  found.  The  school- 
master rather  resented  this  undervaluing  of  his 
other  neophytes. 

"  They  are  all  nice  children,"  he  said,  "  honest, 
kindly,  industrious.  Some  of  those  who  seem 
most  slow  have  very  good  minds,  and  are  of 
those  that  will  be  heard  of.  Out  of  just  such  red 
school-houses,  off  just  such  blue  benches  as  mine, 
have  come  some  of  our  noblest,  wisest,  most 
useful,  most  famous  men." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "  but 
this  boy  is  a  jewel.  I  wonder  how  he  comes  to 
be  so  different  from  the  rest  of  Allen's  children. 
Allen  is  a  huge,  roughly-built,  sandy-haired  man  ; 
his  wife  a  small,  dark,  black-eyed,  wiry  woman. 
Little  Pink  is  a  pretty  child,  quite  the  best  you 
could  expect  from  her  parents.  Bop  and  the 
twins  are  downright  homely  little  youngsters. 
But  look  at  Robert.  See  how  well  he  is  made  ; 
see  how  he  carries  his  head,  and  see  those  curls. 
I  respect  Mrs.  Allen  for  not  being  such  a  vandal 
as  to  cut  them  off.  See  what  lovely  eyes :  I 
have  seen  such  eyes — long  ago.  What  refined 
features.  Schoolmaster,  you  study  such  things. 
What  blood  has  cropped  out  here  ?  Why  is  the 
boy  so  different  from  his  family  ? " 

''  The   explanation   just   here    is    plain    and 


io8  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

easy,"  said  the  schoolmaster.  "  The  boy  is  not 
like  the  family,  because  he  does  not  belong  to 
the  family.  A  poor  woman — a  drunken  woman, 
I  believe — died  down  here  in  Lacy,  and  left  the 
(  hild  to  her  family,  who  were  too  poor  to  take 
t  Lire  of  him,  and  so  Captain  Allen,  who  found 
him  crying  as  they  were  taking  him  to  the  poor- 
1  ouse,  took  pity  on  him,  and  adopted  him,  and 
l.e  is  bound  to  him  until  he  is  twenty-one." 

The  schoolmaster  was  a  man  of  veracity,  and 
supposed  he  was  telling  the  exact  truth.  But 
it  was  now  three  years  since  the  incidents  oc- 
curred which  he  endeavored  to  narrate,  and 
tiiey  had  nearly  passed  from  his  mind,  and  were 
also  mingled  with  the  various  gossipping  ver- 
sions of  the  neighborhood.  It  was  thus  he 
garbled  Robert's  simple  story. 

"An  adoption  !"  cried  Mr.  Murray.  "Such 
a  child  as  that  in  want  of  a  home,  going  a-beg- 
ging for  a  family  !  Why  wasn't  I  the  one  to 
pass  by  as  he  was  going  to  the  poorhouse  ?  I 
might  have  had  him  !  I  could  have  done  more 
for  him  than  Allen.  Why  was  it  not  my  luck 
to  get  him  ?  That  is  just  my  fortune  ;  money, 
only  money — not  the  child — and  I  might  have 
had  him,  if  I  had  been  the  one  to  pass  by." 

The  schoolmaster  felt  pretty  sure  that  if  Mr. 
Murray  had  been  the'  one  to  hear  Robert's  in* 


The  Schoolmaster.  109 

fant  wails,  he  would  very  likely  have  not  been  the 
one  to  heed.  He  might  not  have  noticed  at  all, 
or  he  might  have  said,  why  did  not  some  of  the 
women  do  for  him  ?  or  he  would  have  thought 
it  was  the  county's  duty  to  see  to  him.  Now 
that  the  child  was  grown  strong  and  handsome, 
and  well-ordered,  he  wanted  him. 

"  But  your  question  of  heredity  is  not  solved," 
said  the  schoolmaster.  "  It  is  much  less  strange, 
that  a  frank,  generous,  kindly  little  man  like 
that,  should  be  the  son  of  Captain  Allen  and 
Eliza,  than  that  he  should  be  the  child  of  some 
degraded,  drunken  beggar.  The  truth  about 
Robert's  heredity  is  even  more  puzzling  than 
you  supposed  it  to  be." 

"  It  passes  comprehension,"  said  the  Super- 
intendent ;  "  and,  if  he  is  the  child  of  a  drunken 
mother,  it  is  only  more  instantly  necessary  that 
you  remember  my  words  to  you,  schoolmaster, 
and  teach  him  temperance.  What  a  cruel 
shame,  if  owing  to  some  inherited  thirst,  that 
beautiful  boy  should  fall  under  the  curse  of  the 
age.     Are  you  teaching  him  temperance  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  am  teaching  them  all  temperance," 
said  the  schoolmaster.  And  so  he  was,  in  his 
own  fashion. 

Mr.  Murray  happened  to  look  in  at  the 
school-house  window,  one  afternoon,  just  as  one 


no  The  Captains  Bargain. 

of  these  lessons  was  being  given,  and  he  re- 
mained, an  auditor,  until  it  was  finished. 

The  schoolmaster,  with  the  savings  of  two 
laborious  years,  had  treated  himself  to  a  fine 
large  microscope.  This  instrument,  in  its  ma- 
hogany case,  occupied  a  place  of  honor  on  a 
side  table.  It  was  a  world  of  wonder,  a  more 
than  Aladdin's  lamp  to  the  children,  w^ho  looked 
with  joy  to  the  occasions  when  the  schoolmaster 
revealed  to  their  wondering  gaze  its  enchant- 
ments. Whenever  the  schoolmaster  took  a  lit- 
tle key  from  his  vest-pocket,  and  approached 
the  sacred  altar,  where  reposed  the  marvel,  the 
children  stowed  their  books  under  the  blue  desks, 
and  fairly  held  their  breath  with  expectation. 
Any  one  of  them  might  have  the  honor  of  being 
summoned  as  officiating  acolyte  of  the  occasion. 

On  this  afternoon  the  schoolmaster  had  a 
bowl  of  water  and  some  small  green  weeds  from 
the  nearest  pond.  He  put  some  of  the  green 
plant  in  a  large,  clear  glass.  As  it  floated,  the 
children  coming  near  to  look,  one  by  one,  saw 
that  the  plant  seemed  supplied  with  minute 
green  sacs  filled  with  air. 

"  Now  take  your  seats,"  said  the  master.  "  This 
is  called  a  bladder-plant,  from  these  wee  green 
bladders,  whereby  it  floats.  Listen,  and  Nathan 
will  tell  you  what  he  sees.  Nathan,  come  forward." 


The  Schoohnaster.  iii 

Nathan  came  gladly. 

"  Now,  tell  us  what  you  see  in  the  water, 
Nathan." 

"  I  see  little  live  things  ;  some  have  little  shells 
on  them  like  muscles,  only  they  look  about  as 
big  as  tiny  pin-heads.  Some  have  little  whirl- 
ing wheels  on  their  heads.  A  good  many  are 
like  very,  very  wee  caterpillars." 

"  Those  last  are  the  water-bears,"  said  the 
schoolmaster.    "  Now  look  at  the  bladder-plant." 

"The  bladders,"  said  Nathan,"  are  little  bags. 
Their  mouths  are  open.  They  are  set  round 
vvith  hairs.  Some  of  the  bags  look  full  of  some- 
thing, and  dark.  Some  of  them  seem  to  have 
some  live  thing  kicking  in  them.  Some  are 
empty,  and  as  you  look  in  at  the  door  it  is  like  a 
little  clear  green  room.  O  !  I  see  a  water-bear 
swimming  up  to  one  ]  He  looks  in.  He  seems 
tn  think  it  is  pretty.  I  guess  he  wants  to  know 
what  is  inside.  Now  he  swims  to  one  of  the  bags 
where  there  is  something  kicking.  He  looks  in 
there.  Now  he  goes  to  an  empty  one.  Now  he 
swimsby.  No;  he  changes  his  mind.  Hethinkshe 
will  go  in.  He  pokes  in  his  head.  The  little  hairs 
at  the  door  bend  inward,  they  let  him  go  in  easy. 
He  is  in!     Oh,  now  he  is  trying  to  come  out!" 

Great  excitement  in  the  listening  school,  eyes 
wide  open,  heads  bent  forward. 


112  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Can  he  get  out  ?"  cried  some  one. 

"  No !  no !  he  can't,"  exclaimed  Nathan,  all 
eager.  "The  hairs  bend  in  and  let  him  in,  but 
he  cannot  get  by  them  to  go  out !  They  won't 
bend  out.     Oh,  he  can't  get  out." 

The  schoolmaster  now  took  one  of  the  dark 
full  sacs,  cut  it  open  with  a  very  fine  sharp  in- 
strument, and  put  it  under  the  glass. 

"  Now  what,  Nathan  ?" 

"  Oh,  that  bag  is  full  of  dead  thmgs,  of  what 
you  might  call  the  bones  of  these  bits  of  crea- 
tures, the  shells  off  one  of  those  tiny  things  like 
muscles.  They  are  things  that  have  gone  in, 
and  have  got  all  melted  up." 

"  Here  is  another,"  said  the  schoolmaster,  put- 
ting a  lighter  green  sac  in  place,  also  cut  open. 
'•  What  now  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  very  sac  the  water-bear  looked 
into  to  see  something  kicking.  The  kicking 
thing  was  another  water-bear.  Now  it  is 
dead.  The  one  that  went  in  just  now  is  kick- 
ing too." 

The  schoolmaster  took  that  sac,  also,  opened 
it,  and  released  the  struggling  water-bear. 

"  What  now,.Nathan  ?  " 

"  He  is  out,  but  he  doesn't  feel  good.  He 
doesn't  swim  round  as  he  did  before  he  went  in.  I 
think  he  is  going  to  die,  schoolmaster.    Oh,  here 


The  Schoolmaster.  113 

is  another  bear  just  going  into  a  sac.  Let  him  out 
quick,  won't  you  ?  " 

The  schoolmaster  opened  the  sac,  and  the 
ficcd  little  animal  swam  off. 

"  He  got  out,  right  off,  and  nothing  but  him," 
said  Nathan.  "  Schoolmaster,  isn't  it  queer  that 
when  they  look  in  and  see  the  dead  ones,  and 
the  bones  and  skins,  or  see  other  ones  caught 
and  kicking,  and  can't  get  out,  that  they  don't 
learn  better  than  to  go  in  themselves  ?  I  should 
think  they'd  have  sense  to  keep  out ! " 

"  People  do  not  have  sense  to  keep  out,  when 
the  circumstances  are  just  about  the  same.  Now, 
all  of  you  children,  listen.  You  know  what 
Nathan  has  told  you  of  these  little,  gay  palace- 
rooms  where  the  doors  open  in,  and  not  out,  and 
the  things  which  swim  by  seem  curious  to  know 
what  is  inside.  Some  of  these  gay  places  hold 
struggling  captives  ;  others  are  full  of  the  relics 
of  the  dead.  Now,  that  is  a  little  parable  to 
you.  Let  the  little  green  sacs  stand  for  places 
where  strong  drink  is  sold.  Those  who  enter 
such  places  form  the  drinking  habit,  and  then 
they  cannot  get  free  of  it.  Persons,  yet  free, 
look  into  these  dens  for  drinking.  They  see  in 
them  people  all  ragged,  dirty,  poor,  unhappy, 
bloated,  crazy,  sick,  wrecked  and  ruined  victims 
of  the  habit.     They  see  yet  others,  who  mourn 


114  ^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

that  they  are  enslaved,  who  have  a  sense  of 
shame  and  danger,  and  struggle  to  get  rid  of  the 
appetite  that  makes  prisoners  of  them,  and  will 
destroy  them.  In  this  little  plant,  when  the 
little  animals  get  into  the  sacs,  the  plant  melts 
up  their  bodies,  and  seems  to  suck  up  their  juice 
and  feed  on  it,  until  nothing  is  left  but  the  fine 
bony  parts.  So  the  unhappy  person  who  goes 
into  a  grog-shop  finds  that  the  dealer  feeds  on 
him  until  his  health  and  happiness  and  money 
and  respectability  are  all  gone,  and  perhaps 
nothing  is  left  of  him  but  the  poor  body  that  is 
ready  for  the  potter's  field.  Is  it  not  strange 
that  when  we  see  how  many  persons  are  utterly 
ruined  by  drink,  any  of  us  will  venture  into 
places  where  drink  is  sold,  and  will  even  our- 
selves begin  to  taste  the  fatal  liquor  ?  Why  are 
we  not  warned  by  seeing  our  friends  and  com- 
panions who  were  once  safe  and  happy,  now 
struggling  in  the  snare  of  drunkenness  ?  You 
saw  how,  when  I  let  one  of  those  water-bears  out 
of  the  prison  he  had  walked  into,  it  was  too  late, 
to  do  him  much  good.  He  was  free,  but  he  died 
because  he  had  been  poisoned  thoroughly  before 
he  got  out.  So,  there  are  some  who,  by  some 
strong  efforts,  are  rescued  at  last  from  strong 
drink,  but  not  until  their  health  and  property 
have  been  destroyed,  and  they  can  never  again 


The  Schoolmaster.  115 

be  the  people  that  once  they  were.  Then,  I  let 
one  little  water-bear  out  so  soon  that  he  was  in 
a  little  time  as  safe  and  well  as  before.  I  wonder 
if  he  will  take  warning,  and  never  go  into  such 
a  trap  again  ?  Whenever  you  see  a  place  for 
selling  whiskey,  I  want  you  to  think  of  the  little 
water-bears  and  other  water  creatures  which 
enter  the  snares  of  the  bladder-plant.  Now, 
Nathan,  last  night  I  saw  you  and  Sam,  when 
you  had  been  sent  on  an  errand  to  the  store, 
stop  at  the  door  of  the  cross-roads  tavern,  and 
finally  step  into  the  bar-room  to  see  what  was 
going  on." 

"  But,  schoolmaster !  we  never  touched  a 
drop  ! "  cried  Nathan  and  Sam,  turning  very  red. 

"  I  know  it,  I  watched.  If  one  of  you  had 
so  much  as  held  out  a  hand  toward  a  glass  of 
beer,  or  any  liquor,  I  should  have  draggled  you 
out,  and  I  don't  know  but  I  should  have  given 
you  a  whipping  then  and  there.  Now,  why 
should  you  venture  into  such  a  place  when  you 
know  some  men  about  here  are  poor,  ruined, 
miserable  wrecks,  all  from  beginning,  by  looking 
in,  then  going  in,  then  tasting,  then  drinking 
more  and  more  ?  Why,  when  you  see  one  or 
two  young  men  hereabouts,  caught  in  this  snare, 
lamenting  it,  trying  to  reform,  succeeding,  fail- 
ing, will  you  venture  on  the  beginning  of  such 


ii6  The  Captains  Bargain. 

a  way  ?  Remember  what  came  of  the  curiosity 
of  the  water-bear.  Remember,  the  doors  of  the 
bladder-plant  open  in  but  not  out.  It  is  easy 
enough  to  get  in,  but  it  takes  a  miracle  to  get 
out.  Now,  Nathan  and  Sam,  stand  one  on 
each  end  of  the  platform,  while  you  and  the 
whole  school  learn  this  verse  that  I  write  on  the 
board.  '  Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not 
in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly,  nor  standeth  in 
the  way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the 
scornful.*  Do  you  see  what  that  means  ?  You 
are  not  to  go  walking  about  where  you  will  see 
wickedness,  you  are  not  to  stand  to  look  on  and 
be  amused  by  wickedness ;  and  then  you  will 
not  be  likely  to  be  sitting  down  to  take  a  share 
in  wicked  doings." 

It  was  not  only  in  the  school-room  that  the 
master  gave  his  moral  lessons.  He  was  mucii 
with  his  pupils  out  of  doors.  Many  a  ramble 
they  took  with  him,  and  many  an  hour  did 
he  spend,  sitting  on  a  fence  and  chatting  to 
them,  as  they  worked  in  the  gardens.  He  could 
find  on  every  hand  some  theme  for  pertinent 
and  profitable  remark. 

Mrs.  Britt's  two  grandsons  were  weeding  her 
vegetable-beds  one  Saturday,  and  Pink  and  Rob- 
ert stood  looking  on.  The  schoolmaster  was 
sitting  on  the  gate-post.       "  Robert,"  he  said. 


The  Schoolmaster.  \\*j 

"  bring  me  that  branch  which  hangs  out  near 
your  shoulder." 

Robert  carefully  broke  off  the  little  branch 
in  question. 

"Do  you  see  these  curled-up  leaves?"  said 
the  schoolmaster,  pointing  to  some  leaves  rolled 
together  until  they  hung  like  little  long  purses. 

The  boys  looked  at  these  little  leaf-bags. 

"  Do  you  see,"  said  the  master,  "  there  is  a 
tiny  caterpillar  in  each  one.  He  has  made 
this  nest  for  himself,  by  spinning  lines  of  silk 
across  the  leaf,  from  edge  to  edge.  By 
shortening  the  lines  he  has  bent  the  leaf,  until 
the  edges  come  together.  Thus  he  has  a  neat 
little  silk-lined  house.  Look  at  the  way  in 
which  he  has  made  a  cover  or  roof  ;  would  you 
think  so  humble  a  creature  had  such  ingenuity? 
He  has  bitten  a  line  nearly  across,  below  the  tip 
of  the  leaf,  and  so  it  has  bent  downward,  and 
he  is  shielded  from  dew,  sun,  and  rain.  But, 
now  look  at  this."  The  master  held  out  two  or 
three  purses,  where  the  carefully-made  green 
roof  had  been  eaten  up,  and  only  the  dry  mid- 
vein  left.  "  These  caterpillars,  after  so  much 
care  in  constructing  a  home  with  a  roof,  are 
given,  oddly  enough,  to  eating  their  roofs. 
They  lie  in  their  nests  and  gnaw  off  the  roof, 
Then  they  are  exposed  to  heat  and  wet.     Their 


1 1 8  The  Captains  Bargain. 

home  is  spoiled.  Now,  Robert,  look  at  this 
other  branch." 

"Oh!  that  is  queerer  still!"  cried  Robert. 
"  Here  are  purse  houses,  that  have  been  all 
gnawed  away,  and  the  poor  little  caterpillars 
have  only  a  few  dry  threads  to  cover  them. 
They  lie  on  the  stems,  as  if  they  felt  very  badly. 
Their  homes  are  more  worn  out  than  our  mill," 
added  Robert,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Now,  this  is  another  kind  of  caterpillar, 
and  it  not  only  eats  its  roof,  but  it  eats  all  its 
house.  It  constructs  it  carefully,  of  a  silk-lined 
leaf — and  then  destroys  it.  It  is  now  turned  out 
to  the  weather,  and  by  this  time  it  is  getting  per- 
haps old  and  weary  in  its  caterpillar  life,  and  al- 
most ready  to  go  into  its  next,  or  pupa  state, 
and  it  is  too  late  to  build  another  snug  home." 

"What  a  fool  it  is  ! "  said  Tom  Britt.  "  Th^ 
idea  of  taking  pains  to  build  a  nice  house,  and 
then  turning  yourself  out  of  it — by  eating  it 
up!" 

"  Did  you  never  see  men  act  just  so?"  said 
the  master.  "  Many  an  one  have  I  known,  who 
has  built  up  a  pleasant  home  and  has  then 
drunk  the  roof  from  over  his  head — or  drunk 
up  his  whole  home.  Many  a  homeless  drunk- 
ard is  homeless  because  he  has  drunk  up  furni- 
ture, house,  and  fields.     I  have  known  men  to 


The  Schoolmaster.  119 

swallow  big  houses  and  little  gardens  and  farms 
—^indeed  the  entire  product  of  years  of  industry. 

"  Look  at  these  caterpillars  again.  When  they 
are  young  and  growing,  they  cast  their  skins, 
coming  out  of  the  old  skin  that  is  too  small,  as 
the  chick  comes  out  of  the  shell.  The  first 
thing  they  do,  is  to  turn  about  and  eat  the  cast- 
off  skin  !  That  is  all  right ;  and  may  be  useful 
for  a  caterpillar.  But,  I  have  known  men  to 
drink  up  the  clothes  off  their  own  backs,  and 
the  entire  wardrobe  of  their  family.  That  is 
not  well  for  a  man.  Now,  boys,  whenever  you 
see  caterpillars,  remember  what  I  have  told 
you,  and  that  he  who  begins  to  drink  is  very 
likely  to  go  on,  until  he  commits  the  folly  of 
drinking  up  all  that  he  has.  The  Scripture  says, 
'  The  drunkard  and  the  glutton  shall  come  to 
poverty.' " 

One  day  when  the  children  came  to  school, 
they  saw  in  a  jar  on  the  master's  table,  a  queer 
green  and  red  plant,  which  had  its  leaves  grow- 
ing doubled  together  in  the  form  of  pitchers. 
They  were  pretty  little  pitchers  indeed.  The 
seam  where  the  edges  joined,  and  the  rims 
of  the  pitchers,  were  yellow ;  the  inside  of 
the  pitcher's  throat  was  spotted  with  red  and 
yellow. 

"  What  are  these  ? "  said  the  schoolmaster. 


I20  The   Captaijis  Bargain. 

"  They  are  pitcher-plants  ;  you  got  'em  at  the 
swamp,"  said  Tom. 

"  Now  look  you,  boys,"  said  the  master,  "  each 
one  of  these  pretty  pitchers  is  a  deceitful  tavern. 
This  is  the  fly's  tavern,  where  he  comes  to  grief. 
Do  you  see  these  gay  red  and  yellow  colors  ? 
These  are  like  signs  and  colored-glass  windows, 
and  all  manner  of  ornaments,  to  lure  customers 
toward  the  tavern.  All  up  that  yellow  line  is  a 
sweet  juice  in  little  drops.  The  flies  are  enticed 
to  the  plant  by  the  color,  then  they  take  a  taste 
of  the  sweet  dew  on  the  line  of  yellow.  It  tastes 
nice,  and  they  go  on  eating.  That  is  as  the  su- 
gar and  spices  and  ice  and  lemons,  and  so  on, 
that  are  mixed  with  the  drinks  to  beguile  peo- 
ple to  grow  fond  of  them.  Well,  up  the  pitcher 
the  flies  go,  sipping,  sipping,  and  so,  before  they 
know  it,  they  are  over  the  brim  !  Well,  what 
then  ?  Why,  these  pitchers  are  full  of  another 
kind  of  juice.  If  you  taste  it,  you  will  find  it 
has  a  biting,  stinging  taste.  And  that  juice 
makes  the  poor  flies  giddy  and  drunk.  As 
soon  as  they  sip  it,  they  fall  forward  on  their 
heads.  If  you  take  them  out  when  they  have 
had  some  of  it,  they  fall  about  and  soon  die,  un- 
less their  taste  has  been  very  little  indeed.  The 
juice  in  the  pitcher  makes  the  flies  act  just  like 
drunken  men.     They  fall  around,  and  do  not 


The  Schoolmaster.  I2l 

know  what  they  are  doing,  and  cannot  help 
themselves.  And  so  they  drown  in  the  liquo: 
stored  up  in  the  pretty  pitcher,  the  deceitfu 
tavern  plant.  You  will  see  in  these  pitchers 
dozens  of  dead  insects.  The  cruel  tavern  melti: 
up  their  substance  and  feeds  upon  it." 

Then  the  schoolmaster  passed  the  pitcher- 
plants  about,  and  the  children  saw  for  them- 
selves the  two  kinds  of  juice  and  the  dead  flies. 

On  another  day  he  showed  them  the  gay  little 
sundews,  which  with  red  rays  and  sweet  honey- 
drops,  attract  small  insects,  and  so  entangle 
them  in  a  sticky  fluid,  and  pierce  their  bodies, 
and  hold  them  fast,  and  suck  up  all  their  juices 
to  feed  the  plant. 

Such  were  some  of  the  lessons  of  the  school- 
master. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

*'  MR.    MURRAY    MAKES    AN    OFFER." 

1  .^  E  information  that  Robert  was  only  the 
adopt.'^d  child  of  Captain  Ezekiel  Allen,  stimu- 
lated the  desire  of  the  Superintendent  to  possess 
him.  The  day  might  come  when  the  Aliens 
could  he  persuaded  to  give  him  up.  Or,  some 
day  the  boy  might  be  brought  to  realize  the  ad- 
vantagee,  he  could  receive  as  the  adopted  son  of 
the  rich  man,  and  so  elect  to  forsake  his  poorer 
foster- pa. -ents.  Mr.  Murray  was  a  man  of  long 
ideas  :  hh  could  plan  far  off  toward  an  end.  He 
continued  his  kindness  to  Robert,  saw  him 
whenever  he  could,  and  carefully  acquainted 
himself  w\  ;h  Captain  Allen's  affairs. 

The  six  weeks  each  summer  when  the  Aliens 
were  awa)  on  the  barge  Fair-  Weather  were 
long  and  tedious  weeks  to  Mr.  Murray  ;  he 
pined  for  a  sight  of  Robert's  handsome  face. 

His  presents  continued.  Robert  had  the  best 
knife  of  any  boy  in  the  school.  He  had  a  nice 
little  pocket-book,  though  in  truth  it  was  sel- 
dom that  he  had  more  than  a  cent  in  it — for 

(122) 


**Mr.  Murray  makes  an   Offer.''      123 

Mr.  Murray  never  gave  him  money.  Money 
was  to  be  the  culminating  bribe  to  the  growing 
hid,  who  had  been  taught,  by  want,  to  know  its 
worth.  Robert  had  a  box  of  pens  and  pencils ; 
he  had  a  book-strap  ;  he  might  have  had  a  hand- 
some suit  of  clothes. 

"  If  you  will  come  with  me  to  Lacy,  my  lad," 
said  the  Superintendent,  "  I'll  buy  you  a  new 
suit,  all  blue  cloth  and  gilt  buttons." 

But  Robert  shook  his  head  resolutely. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Don't  you  want  new 
clothes?" 

"  No,  sir.  I  don't  want  to  be  dressed  better 
than  the  rest  of  them.  I  don't  want  blue 
clothes  and  brass  buttons,  when  my  father  and 
mother  and  Pink  don't  have  new  thin^." 

Mr.  Murray  could  not  but  admire  the  feeling, 
but  he  wanted  to  see  Robert  dressed  according 
it»,4iis  ideal.  "I'll  give  Pink  a  new  suit  too," 
he  said,  slowly. 

"  I  must  ask  mother  before  I  say,"  said 
Robert.  "  But  you  know  father  wouldn't  take 
clothes,  only  what  he  earned  and  paid  for  ;  and 
I  don't  think  I  ought  to  be  dressed  better  than 
my  father." 

He  told  his  mother  about  the  proffered  clothes 
for  himself  and  Pink. 

"  You  shall  do  as  you  please,  Robert,"  said 


124  -^ ^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

Mrs.  'Liza,  who  was  washing,  and  she  rubbed 
the  suds  from  her  arms,  and  leaned  on  her  wash- 
board, as  she  spoke  ;  "  only  you  must  think  of 
this  :  Mr.  Murray  may  give  you  and  Pink  nicer 
clothes  than  you  ever  had  before,  or  could  get 
again.  They  would  make  your  other  clothes 
seem  very  poor  and  shabby  to  you,  and  when 
the  new  ones  were  gone,  you  might  never  feel 
contented  in  such  poorer  things  as  we  can  give 
you.  The  new  clothes  might  just  make  you 
both  vain,  and  spoil  your  notions.  But,  do  as 
you  like,  child." 

"  I  like  not  to  have  any  clothes  but  what 
you  get  me;  don't  you.  Pink?"  said  Robert, 
promptly. 

The  little  maid,  who  was  now  eight,  and"  who 
saw  a  very  pretty  little  face  reflected  when  she 
gazed  into  the  square  foot  of  looking-glass, 
or  into  a  pool  or  tub  of  water,  assented,  much 
more  reluctantly  than  Robert,  to  Eliza's  rea- 
sonings. 

"Ye-ess — only — I  would  like  a  blue  dress, 
with  trimming  on  it,  so  much,"  she  said. 

"  Never  mind,  Pink,  dear,"  said  Robert,  pat- 
ting her  cheek.  "  We  don't  care  !  Our  things 
are  good  enough,  and  then  mother  made  'em  ! 
That  makes  them  good  enough,  don't  it.  Pink  ? 
And  when  I'm  big,  Pink,  I'm  going  to  earn  a 


^'Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer!'       125 

whole  load  of  money,  as  much  as  all  Mr.  Mur- 
ray has,  and  I'll  buy  you  ten  new  dresses,  of  all 
colors,  and  I  shall  buy  mother  a  dress  and  a  hat 
just  like  Mrs.  Britt's  best  one,  only  with  a  much 
bigger  feather  ;  and  I'll  pay  the  mortgages  and 
build  a  new  mill,  and  a  white  house,  with  a 
porch  in  front,  and  carpets  all  over  the  floors, 
and  a  buggy  for  mother  to  ride  in.  Yes,  I 
will!" 

"  Bless  the  child,"  said  Eliza,  tears  coming 
into  her  eyes  ;  "  whatever  put  all  that  into  your 
head?" 

"  Oh,  I  think  of  it  often,  when  I'm  playing, 
or  go  to  bed  at  night,  or  sometimes  when  I'm 
learning  my  lessons — and  then — I  forget  to 
learn  my  lessons,  and  I  go  to  the  foot,  and  the 
master  says,  '  Robert,  you've  been  dreaming 
away  your  time.'" 

"You  mustn't  do  that,"  said  Eliza,  "you'll 
never  get  a  deal  of  money,  and  be  rich,  unless 
you  are  wise  and  learn  all  your  lessons.  What 
are  you  going  to  buy  for  yourself,  when  you  are 
rich?" 

"  Something,"  said  Robert,  carelessly  ;  "  I 
hadn't  thought  about  that  yet." 

Robert  was  ten.  His  long  curls  had  at  last 
fallen  under  Eliza's  reluctant  shears  ;  but  now 
his  hair  was  lying  in  great  soft  rings  all  about 


126  The  Captains  Bargain, 

his  well-made  head,  and  his  erect  figure  was 
strong  and  well-developed  ;  not  a  child  of  his 
years  in  the  district  was  so  large  and  well-built 
as  Robert.  He  was  well  on  in  his  lessons  loo, 
full  of  life  and  enterprise,  a  leader  among  his 
playmates,  a  ruler,  but  not  a  tyrant.  He  could 
fight,  and  fought  when  he  saw  occasion.  There 
was  one  day  when  as  he  and  Pink  reached 
school  they  fell  into  trouble. 

Pink  had  a  blue  calico  dress.  It  had  seen  a 
summer's  wear,  and  had  faded.  Then,  unhap- 
pily, a  hole  had  come  in  it,  and  Eliza  had 
patched  it  ;  and,  alas !  the  new  was  bright 
against  the  old.  Poor  little  Pink,  that  patch 
grieved  her  all  the  way  to  school.  In  vain  Rob- 
ert, putting  his  arm  about  her,  strove  to  com- 
fort her:  "The  patch  did  not  look  ugly." 
"  The  dress  was  clean."  "  Pink  was  pretty,  any- 
how." "  No  one  would  notice  it."  "  Every- 
body had  patches  sometimes." 

But  Pink  was  still  downcast,  as  by  Robert's 
side  she  trudged  to  school ;  Bop  prancing  along, 
now  behind,  now  before  them,  and  the  twins 
pursuing  an  erratic  course  in  the  rear.  But 
when  the  door  of  the  school-house  was  reached, 
Jim  Long  bawled  out :  "  Halloo  !  Pink  Allen, 
you've  got  a  window  in  your  frock  ! " 

Pink  simply  dropped  into  a  forlorn  heap  on 


^'Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer.'*      127 

the  grass,  and  hiding  her  crimson  face  on  her 
arms,  began  to  cry  heart-brokenly.  Beside  her 
dropped  the  strap  of  books  and  the  dinner- 
basket.  Jim  Long  was  twelve  and  sturdy,  but 
Robert  was  upon  him  like  a  young  tiger :  he 
whirled  him  from  the  school-house  steps  out 
upon  the  grass  ;  he  dealt  him  a  furious  blow  on 
his  cheek,  grappled  him,  flung  him  over,  and 
kneeling  upon  him,  began  to  strike  him  here 
and  there,  with  little  regard  to  consequences. 
The  twins  shrieked  in  chorus.  Bop  shouted  for 
the  master ;  some  of  the  girls  burst  into  tears  ; 
some  of  the  boys  roared :  "  Serves  him  right." 
"  Give  it  to  Jim  Long."  Others  sang  out,  "  Let 
him  up,  Rob!"  "Quit,  Rob."  "The  master's 
coming  ! "  The  master  came.  He  pulled  one  boy 
off,  and  the  other  boy  up ;  he  took  them  each 
by  the  collar  to  the  water-pail  and  washed  both 
their  hot,  furious  faces.  Then  he  led  them  to 
the  platform,  rang  the  bell  for  school  and  order, 
and  inquired  into  the  rights  of  the  case.  Tom 
Britt  stood  up  to  testify,  as  a  disinterested  wit- 
ness. 

"  Jim,  I'm  ashamed  of  you,"  said  the  school- 
master, "  but  no  doubt  you  spoke  without 
thinking,  and  are  sorry  for  it  now.  No  boy 
with  the  least  spark  of  a  gentleman  in  him 
would  insult  a  girl  !     Robert,  is  it  not  written, 


128  The  Captains  Bargain. 

*  Dearly  beloved,   avenge    not  yourselves,   but 
rather  give  place  unto  wrath '  ? " 

"  Yes,  schoolmaster,"  said  Robert,  "  but  I 
was  not  avenging  myself,  but  Pink.  He  may 
say  what  he  likes  to  me,  but  no  one  shall  make 
Pink  cry." 

"  It  is  dangerous  to  be  so  uncommonly  handy 
with  your  fists,  Robert,"  said  the  master ;  "  here- 
after will  you  let  Jim  alone?" 

"  Yes,  master — if  he  behaves  himself,"  said 
Robert,  calmly,  fixing  his  steadfast,  brown  eyes 
on  his  preceptor. 

The  schoolmaster  repressed  a  bounteous  smile. 
"  I  want  no  fighting  in  my  school.  Refer  ill- 
behavior  to  me." 

"  And  be  a  sneak  and  a  tell-tale,  master  ?  I'd 
rather  settle  him  myself,  please,  sir." 

"  But  I  don't  please,"  said  the  master.  "  I 
cannot  have  fighting.  If  I  found  you  boys 
fighting,  and  was  obliged  to  take  a  hand  and 
thrash  you,  it  would  be  unfortunate." 

"  Yes,  master,  so  it  would,"  said  Robert  ; 
"  but — I  should  have  thrashed  Jim  first." 

"  Take  your  seats,"  said  the  master.  "  It  is 
time  to  open  school." 

Mr.  Murray  gloried  in  this  encounter.  He 
met  Robert  one  evening  on  the  bridle-path  to 
the  chalet.    The  boy  had   been   looking  after 


'^Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer.''      129 

the  Allen  cow,  which  was  given  to  straying. 
"  Robert,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  taking  his  hand, 
"  you  are  now  about  ten  years  old,  and  I  hear 
you  are  at  the  head  of  your  class." 

'*  Yes,  sir  ;  but  it's  easy,  you  know  ;  it  is  not  a 
hard  class." 

"  And  you  can  thrash  any  boy  of  your  size, 
and  more  than  your  size  too,  I  understand." 

"  So  I  can,"  said  Robert,  with  modest  grati- 
fication ;  "  but  I  don't  do  it  often.  I  don't  love 
to  fight." 

"  You  will  soon  be  a  large  boy,  and  then  a 
young  man.    What  are  you  going  to  do  in  life  ?" 

"  I  shall  go  to  work  at  something  as  soon  as 
I  can,  and  make  money.  I  want  to  make  a  lot 
of  money." 

"  Yes.  What  do  you  wish  to  do  with  money?" 

"  I  want  to  give  it  to  father.  The  mill  needs 
a  lot  of  money  to  repair  it.  We  need  a  house. 
The  mortgage  ought  to  be  paid.  Oh,  we  need 
so  much  money." 

"  And  you'd  be  willing  to  do — anything  for 
all  this  money,  would  you  ? " 

"  Anything  I  could  do,  sir ;  anything  right. 
Father  says  there's  lots  of  very  dirty  money  in 
the  world,  made  in  bad  ways.  I  wouldn't  want 
that  money." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  put  you  in  a  good  way  to 


130  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

have  a  deal  of  money,  as  much  as  I  have — and 
I  am  a  rich  man,  Robert.  Would  you  like 
that?" 

"  Oh,  sir  !  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  "  cried  Robert,  his 
face  aglow. 

The  dusk  was  falling  an  evening  or  two  after, 
and  Captain  'Zekiel  Allen,  in  a  moody  frame  of 
mind,  was  standing  on  the  bank,  where  he  could 
dimly  see  his  mill-wheel.  The  children  were  all 
in  the  house  peeling  and  cutting  apples  to  dry 
for  winter.  Captain  Ezekiel  was  unhappy.  The 
mortgage  was  long  overdue,  and  he  was  at  the 
mercy  of  his  creditor,  who  could  at  any  time  re- 
fuse the  hard-earned  interest  and  foreclose.  The 
old  mill  was  so  out  of  repair  that  it  would 
scarcely  hold  together.  The  voyages  to  Phila- 
delphia were  yearly  less  remunerative,  the  barge 
was  very  old,  and,  like  the  mill,  needed  refitting. 
There  was  little  demand  for  sawing  or  grinding. 
The  outlook  was  very  dark  for  'Zekiel  and  'Liza 
and  the  five  children. 

Some  one  came  behind  him. 

"  Captain  Allen,  are  you  there  ?     I  wish  to 
talk  with  you.     Can  we  sit  down  somewhere  ' 
alone  ?  " 

It  was  Mr.  Murray.  Captain  Allen  silently 
led  the  way  under  the  mill,  to  that  very  place  of 
cobwebs  and  rubbish  where  he  had  sacrificed  his 


**Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer''       131 

bottle,  long  ago,  to  Robert,  and  laid  his  hand  in 
unuttered  covenant  on  that  curly  head.  There 
were  two  empty  nail-kegs  there,  and  the  men  sat 
down.  Captain  Allen's  heart  misgave  him.  He 
had  long  feared  mischief  from  Mr.  Murray. 

"  Allen,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "  I  want  to  talk 
with  you,  and  I  am  going  first  to  tell  you  what 
I  have  never  told  hereabouts  to  any  one,  my 
story.  I  was  left  an  orphan  with  some  money. 
When  I  was  a  lad  I  had  typhoid  fever,  and  in 
the  long  prostration  that  came  after  I  was  freely 
given  brandy  and  whiskey.  It  created  a  taste 
for  liquor.  Mine  was  not  a  constant  thirst,  a 
tippling,  a  daily  sipping.  But  at  times  a  strong 
craving  came  upon  me,  and  I  drank.  I  married. 
My  wife  was  an  orphan  like  myself,  and  lovelier 
than  words  can  tell,  a  gentle  creature,  all  heart. 
We  had  a  child — a  son — we  were  happy.  The 
child  was  about  a  year  old,  when,  one  evening, 
in  New  York,  I  wanted  to  take  him  out  with 
me  on  my  arm,  to  carry  him  around  after  the 
shops  were  lit.  My  wife  had  a  sprained  ankle 
and  could  not  go  out.  She  objected  to  my  tak- 
ing the  child.  I  had  been  having  some  liquor  ; 
she  knew  I  might  at  any  moment  yield  to  my 
madness,  and  take  more,  and  lose  all  knowledge. 
But  I  was  proud  of  my  handsome  boy,  and  I 
would  go  out  with  him,  to  show  him  to  those 


132  The  Captains  Bargain. 

whom  I  knew.  I  went  out.  At  one  in  the 
morning  I  came  in  without  the  child." 

"  Where  was  he  ?  "  cried  the  Captain. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  was  too  stupefied  to  miss 
him  or  to  answer  questions.  My  frantic  wife 
cent  for  the  neighbors  and  for  the  police.  It 
was  noon  next  day  before  I  came  to  my  senses. 
Then  I  could  tell  nothing,  for  I  could  recall 
nothing.  Search  had  developed  nothing.  Search 
has  never  developed  anything.  My  watch  and 
a  wallet  with  a  hundred  dollars  were  gone.  I 
had  a  vague  fancy  that  the  child  cried,  and  I  had 
given  him  these  articles  to  play  with.  We  bent 
every  energy  to  the  search,  but  never  found  any 
trace  of  him.  My  poor  wife  was  prostrated. 
She  lay  on  her  bed,  wasting  to  a  shadow.  She 
had  but  one  word,  '  My  baby,  get  me  my  baby.* 
Hour  after  hour  she  moaned  that  plaintive  plea. 
When  too  weak  to  utter  the  words,  her  big, 
sunken,  sorrowful  eyes  turned  in  an  agony  of 
entreaty  to  every  one  who  entered.  I  spared  no 
pains.  Even  now  the  case  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
New  York  police,  as  it  has  been  for  ten  years. 
At  the  end  of  a  year  my  poor  heart-broken  wife 
died.  I  was  an  old  man.  My  hair  was  white, 
my  face  was  wrinkled,  my  shoulders  bent,  as  you 
see.  I  gave  up  hope.  To  fly  the  face  of  all 
whom  I  had  known,  I  came  up  here.     By  some 


*'Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer!'      133 

strange  fatality,  when  all  my  home  had  fallen 
into  ruins,  my  fortune  throve.  I  make  more 
and  more  money,  but  by  no  outlay  of  it  can  I 
find  my  child.  Now,  I  have  a  large  fortune, 
and  I  am  prematurely  old  and  broken,  and  where 
shall  I  leave  my  money  when  I  die  ?  I  have 
seen  only  one  heir  whom  I  want — your  Robert." 

"  Robert !  You  want  to  leave  your  money 
to  Robert ! " 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  want  you  to  give  Robert  to  me. 
I  can  do  for  him  more  than  you  can.  I  can 
make  him  a  gentleman,  a  rich  man,  a  scholar — 
everything.  It  is  not  fair  of  you,  is  it,  to  stand 
in  the  way  of  his  prosperity  ?  He  is  not  really 
yours ;  you  have  four ;  compassionate  my  lone- 
liness, give  the  boy  to  me." 

"  Give  up  our  Robert !  Not  mine  !  Yes ;  but 
I  love  him  as  well  as  any  of  the  rest.  Give  you 
my  boy,  Mr.  Murray?" 

"  I  will  do  so  well  for  him,"  plead  the  Super- 
intendent. 

"  I'm  bringing  him  up  to  be  an  honest  man, 
and  that's  enough,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel. 

"  When  the  boy  is  older — when  he  finds  him- 
self at  a  disadvantage,  when  he  is  wanting  what 
he  cannot  have,  and  is  hard  pressed  by  poverty, 
he  may  wish  you  had  done  better  for  him  by 
not  rejecting  my  offer,  Allen." 


134  "^he  Captains  Bargain. 

"  It  would  break  'Liza's  heart.  She's  as  set 
on  Robert  as  I  am.  And  there's  Pink  ;  yes, 
and  ail  the  rest  of  'em,  Jerry  and  all,  they'd  never 
cease  mourning  if  I  let  him  go.  To  say  noth- 
ing of  what  I'd  feel." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know.  But  here  you  are,  times 
are  hard,  the  mill  is  mortgaged  for  all  it's  worth, 
or  more.  Old  Mr.  Wick,  who  holds  the  mort- 
gage, is  past  seventy;  when  he  dies  the  heirs 
will  wind  up  the  property,  and  where  will  you 
be,  Allen?" 

"  In  the  street,  no  doubt,"  groaned  the  Cap- 
tain. He  had  been  thinking  those  very  thoughts 
by  his  wheel  as  the  evening  gathered  before  the 
Superintendent  came. 

"And  you  will  have  in  Robert  only  one 
more  to  share  your  troubles.  You  can  set  him 
well  out  of  them  by  giving  him  to  me.  I'll 
send  him  to  college.  I'll  leave  him  all  my 
property  unless  I  find  my  own  boy  Paul.  If  I 
find  him — though  I  fear,  yes,  I  am  sure  I  never 
shall — I'll  give  Robert  ten  thousand  dollars,  and 
take  care  of  him,  until  he  is  twenty-one." 

"  I  don't  believe  the  boy  would  be  willing 
— no,  not  for  all  that  money,"  said  Captain 
Allen. 

"  You  should  be  willing  for  him,  seeing  it  is 
for  his  good." 


''Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer.''       135 

"  To  give  up  our  Robert ! "  cried  the  pool 
foster-father. 

"Come,  Allen.  See,  now,  I'll  pay  off  the 
mortgage,  and  give  you  a  thousand  dollars,  to 
rc-pair  the  mill  and  build  a  house." 

"You  are  trading  on  my  poverty,  and  trying 
to  buy  my  good  little  boy  !  "  cried  Allen  angrily. 

"  No,  I  am  not.  You  have  cared  for  him 
five  years  and  over.  I  offer  you  compensation 
for  his  education  and  maintenance.  If  I  had 
picked  him  up  when  you  did,  no  doubt  by  this 
time  I  should  have  spent  a  deal  of  money  on 
him." 

"  He  is  not  for  sale,"  said  the  Captain,  crossly. 

"  Don't  look  at  it  in  that  way,  man,"  plead 
the  Superintendent.  "  You  are  rich  in  four 
children  of  your  own  blood — I  am  childless. 
Think  what  a  terrible  history  I  have  told  you. 
Think  of  my  daily  agony.  Think  how  wretch- 
edly I  lost  my  poor  wife.  Your  wife  is  with 
you.  It  is  a  charity  I  beg  of  you.  Give-  me 
the  boy." 

This  moved  the  warm  heart  of  Captain  Allen. 
He  laid  aside  his  wrath.  "  I'm  sorry  for  you, 
vv'ith  all  my  heart,"  he  said.  "  I  wish  I  could 
say  a  good  word  for  you.  But  I'm  not  the  only 
one  to  speak  about  Robert.  'Liza  has  worked 
for  him,  made,  mended,  washed,  cooked,  done 


136  The  Captains  Bargain. 

without  things  for  him,  as  she  has  for  her  own. 
I  could  not  do  anything  unless  'Liza  agreed,  and 
I'm  certain  she'd  say  '  No.'  Pink  would  pine  to 
death  over  it." 

"  You  think  it  over,  and  talk  it  over  with 
Mrs.  Allen,"  said  the  Superintendent.  He  rose 
from  the  nail-keg  and  stumbled  his  way  out  from 
under  the  mill,  into  the  starry  night.  Captain 
Allen  followed  him,  and  stood  listening  to  his 
horse's  hoofs  going  up  the  road.  It  seemed  as 
if  they  were  already  carrying  Robert  away.  Then 
he  entered  the  living-rooms.  The  little  family, 
even  the  twins,  were  busy  about  the  tubs  full  of 
apples. 

"  What's  the  matter,  'Zekiel?"  said  his  wife, 
seeing  his  distressed  face. 

"  I  know,"  said  Jerry,  who  had  been  unusually 
silent.  "  He's  heard  the  news  about  old  Mr. 
Wick." 

"  What  news  ?"  asked  Captain  Allen,  sharply. 

"  He's  had  a  stroke,  and  they  reckon  he's 
dying." 

Eliza  grew  pale.  She  knew  what  that  would 
mean  to  them.  She  dared  not  look  at  her  hus- 
band. 

Meanwhile,  Mr.  Murray,  riding  to  his  lonely 
chalet,  did  not  fail  to  see  that  he  might  buy  the 
mortgage  of  Mr.  Wick,  and  then  press  the  Cap- 


''Mr.  Murray  makes  an  Offer''      137 

tain  by  foreclosing  it.  But  though  a  selfish 
man,  and  rendered  morose  by  his  sorrows,  the 
Superintendent  was  not  a  malicious  man.  He 
would  not  be  guilty  of  so  cruel  an  action.  He 
said  to  himself  that  he  could  still  wait ;  some 
chance  might  yet  throw  the  coveted  boy  into 
his  hands. 

After  the  children  had  all  gone  to  bed — for 
Robert  and  Bop  now  shared  a  little  room  which 
the  Captain  had  made  off  from  the  workshop, 
and  a  shabby  little  place  it  was,  do  the  best  for 
it  that  Eliza  could — Captain  'Zekiel  and  his  wife 
sat  by  the  dying  fire  and  discussed  their  ever- 
falling  fortunes,  and  Captain  'Zekiel  told  'Liza 
of  the  offer  made  by  Mr.  Murray. 

"  The  mortgage  gone,  and  a  thousand  in 
hand,  'Liza,  we  should  be  set  on  our  feet." 

"  But  we  w^ould  not  enjoy  it,"  said  'Liza.  "  It 
seems  as  if  the  new  home  wouldn't  be  half  a 
home  without  our  Robert.  Oh,  'Zekiel,  I  can't 
give  him  up  !  " 

"And,  'Liza,  you  said  he  shouldn't  stay,  and 
did  not  like  my  bringing  him.  He  was  a  Bad 
Bargain  ! " 

"  No,  no,  'Zekiel.  He  has  been  a  good  bar- 
gain and  a  blessing.  'Zekiel,  do  you  think  we 
should  give  him  up  ?  What  would  the  children 
do?" 


138  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Let  us  all  sink  or  swim  together,  'Liza," 
said  Captain  Allen,  laying  his  hand  on  his 
wife's. 

"  So  we  will,  'Zekiel.  We  won't  give  up  our 
boy." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

ROBERT   COMES    TO    THE    RESCUE. 

No  one  of  old  Mr.  Wick's  relatives,  not  even 
his  prospective  heir,  watched  so  anxiously  the 
progress  of  his  illness  as  did  Captain  'Zekiel ; 
no  other  one  was  so  rejoiced  when  the  old  gen- 
tleman began  to  recover.  On  the  first  of  Jan- 
uary Captain  'Zekiel  went  to  pay  his  half-yearly 
interest  —  a  small  amount,  but  how  hardly 
earned  ! 

"  Well,  'Zekiel,"  said  Mr.  Wick,  giving  a  re- 
ceipt for  the  money,  "  I  didn't  think  I'd  be  here 
to  take  any  more  interest  from  you.  I  made 
sure  my  nephy  Jones  would  have  sold  you  out 
by  this  time.  But  I  mav  take  your  money  for 
a  number  of  years  yet,  'Zekiel." 

"  I  hope  to  goodness  you  may,"  said  Captain 
Allen.  The  payment  of  the  mortgage  was  a 
good  fortune  beyond  even  hoping  for.  The 
being  allowed  to  pay  the  half-yearly  interest  and 
not  have  his  ancestral  mill  sold  away  from  him, 
reached   even    beyond    the    limit    of    Captain 

(139) 


140  The  Captai7is  Bargain. 

'Zekiel's  expectations.  The  Captain  was  not  an 
enterprising,  nor  active,  nor  fortunate  business 
man.  Had  he  been  offered  something  to  do  in 
the  city  at  twice  the  amount  of  a  modest  living 
at  the  mill,  he  would  have  stood  by  Lai's  Moun- 
tain. His  wildest  day-dreams  never  passed  be- 
yond a  new  white  house  with  seven  rooms,  a 
veranda,  and  a  little  flower-garden,  besides  a  reno- 
vated mill.  His  children  might  go  forth  in  the 
world  and  make  their  way  in  wider  spheres  ;  the 
Captain  wanted  the  old  place  for  himself  and 
'Liza,  where  the  children  could  come  home  to 
visit  and  bring  their  children  to  set  their  toy- 
boats  sailing  on  the  waters  where  the  Captain's 
grandfather  had  first  set  a  mill-wheel  turning. 

As  it  was,  the  Allen  family,  in  spite  of  their 
poverty,  managed  to  be  very  happy  together 
in  their  tumble -down  home.  So  one  day 
went  on  very  like  another,  and  the  children 
grew,  and  the  Captain  gathered  together  his 
interest  money,  and  Mr.  Murray  waited,  and 
Robert  was  thirteen.  That  spring  the  Fair- 
WeatJier  was  to  go  down  the  river  in  May. 
She  had  some  lumber  to  take  as  well  as  the 
usual  odds  and  ends  of  her  trading  expedition. 
The  preparations  were  well  under  way  when 
suddenly  Mrs.  'Liza,  the  head  and  front  of  the 
household,  fell  ill.     There  had  been  a  deal  of 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  141 

sickness  in  the  district  that  spring,  and  Mistress 
Alien  had  overtaxed  herself  helping  her  neigh- 
bors. All  at  once,  she  who  arranged  all  the 
familv  affairs,  the  vvoman-with-a-head-on-her- 
shoulders,  to  whom  they  all  turned  for  direc- 
tion, lay  prostrate.  She  was  unable  to  think,  to 
project,  to  direct ;  her  thin  hands  were  tremu- 
lous, her  mind  wandered,  fever  scorched  her 
veins. 

The  neighbors  had  always  said :  "  Well,  the 
Aliens  are  so  unlucky,  the  last  and  worst  that 
can  come  to  them,  is  to  have  something  happen 
to  'Liza."  And  now  something  happened : 
Eliza  was  lying  helpless  in  her  bed.  The  load- 
ing of  the  barge  stopped  ;  Jerry  was  no  longer 
able  to  offer  proposals  for  new  enterprises  ;  the 
children  stood  about,  awed  and  quiet  or  crying ; 
the  poor  Captain,  'Zekiel,  was  as  a  man  dis- 
tracted. 

There  were  so  many  ill,  or  aged,  or  just  re- 
covering from  sickness  in  that  sparsely  settled 
neighborhood,  that  there  was  no  one  to  come 
to  help  the  Aliens.  The  burly,  unaccustomed 
Captain  was  left  to  be  sick-nurse,  while  distress 
and  alarm  had  rendered  him  more  impracticable 
than  ever.  The  doctor  came.  Mrs.  Eliza  was 
"  all  run  down  ";  "  she  was  overworked."  "  She 
needed    careful    nourishing."      Among    other 


142  The  Captains  Bargain. 

things  she  was  to  have  beef-tea.  Beef-tea  !  It 
was  a  new  dish  at  the  mill.  But  Jerry  got  the 
beef  from  Lacy  when  he  went  after  medicines. 
The  doctor  had  told  them  how  to  make  beef- 
tea — but  the  Captain  was  hazy  as  to  the  in- 
structions. Besides,  he  theorized  if  'Liza  need- 
ed to  be  strengthened,  the  tea  should  be  rich  ; 
to  his  mind  the  fat  was  the  best  part  of  the 
meat — the  Captain  put  plenty  of  fat  in  his  beef- 
tea. 

At  last  the  potent  dish  was  done.  Mrs.  'Liza, 
in  her  room  next  the  kitchen,  had  smelled  the 
steam  of  the  decoction,  and  was  sure  she  did 
not  want  to  taste  it.  But  oh,  she  must.  What ! 
not  take  her  beef-tea,  when  the  doctor  ordered 
it,  and  her  Captain  and  the  children  were  in 
such  agony  at  seeing  her  ill !  She  must  be 
heroic.  The  Captain  poured  his  beef-tea,  boil- 
ing hot,  plenty  of  it,  into  a  yellow  bowl,  and 
hurriedly  advanced  with  it  to  the  bedside  while 
the  children  looked  on. 

It  is  a  singular  fact  that,  for  some  occult  reason, 
the  horniest  of  man-hands  can  never  endure  a  hot 
plate  or  cup,  with  one-tenth  the  fortitude  of 
softest  woman-hands.  Besides,  the  Captain, 
in  anguish  at  'Liza's  situation,  had  quite  lost  his 
head.  He  distinguished  himself  by  dropping 
the  hot  bowl,  just  as  he  got  to  the  patient. 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue,  143 

The  greasy  fluid  was  distributed  over  the  clean 
white  counterpane,  and  scalded  one  of  the  pa- 
tient's worn,  thin  hands.  The  children  shrieked  ; 
poor  helpless  'Liza  turned  her  face  to  the  xt'all 
and  incontinently  burst  into  tears.  The  Cap- 
tain tore  his  hair. 

Then  Robert  rushed  to  the  rescue.  He  saw 
that  the  Captain,  the  natural  nurse  of  the  oc- 
casion, was  entirely  incompetent,  so  he  sprang 
in  before  him,  tore  off  the  counterpane  from 
the  bed  before  the  soup  had  time  to  soak 
through  to  ruin  the  clean  blanket ;  seized  a  dish 
and  deftly  mixed  'Liza's  remedy  for  burns — flour, 
salt,  water,  in  a  thick  paste — poured  it  into  a 
towel,  and  bound  up  the  burned  hand.  Then 
he  ran  for  the  other  clean  counterpane  and 
spread  it  neatly  over  Eliza,  put  his  father  and 
the  children  out  of  the  door,  bade  Pink  put 
the  soiled  counterpane  to  soak  in  a  tub  of  suds, 
drew  the  curtains,  opened  the  window,  shut 
the  bed-room  door,  bathed  Eliza's  face  and 
smoothed  her  hair,  set  a  bunch  of  green  leaves 
»  and  white  flowers  on  the  little  table,  and  re- 
turned to  the  kitchen,  to  investigate  the  remains 
of  the  Captain's  cooking.  There  was  still  some 
broth  in  the  little  pot,  and,  luckily,  the  greasy 
portion  had  been  spilled.  Robert  got  a  little 
china  cup,   a  shelf  ornament,  set  it  on  the  best 


144  ^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

plate,  put  in  it  one  of  'Liza's  six  small  silver 
spoons,  her  only  "  silver,"  laid  by  it  one  of  her  six 
napkins,  laid  on  the  napkin  a  finger  of  brown 
toast,  put  the  rest  of  the  broth,  carefully  seasoned, 
into  the  cup,  and  carried  the  refection  to  Eliza. 
"  Your  hand  doesn't  hurt  now,  does  it,  mother  ? 
Pink  is  washing  the  quilt  in  hot  suds,  and  we 
will  bleach  it  lovely  on  the  grass.  And  here  is 
some  nice  broth;  and  don't  worry,  I'm  going  to 
take  care  of  you.  I  believe  I  know  how  to 
'tend  sick  people." 

So  he  fed  'Liza  the  broth  and  toast,  shook 
up  her  pillow,  and  went  out  to  inform  his  father 
that  he  himself  was  now  head  nurse,  and  that  the 
kitchen  stove  should  be  set  out  in  a  little  lean- 
to  shed,  and  no  one  allowed  to  walk  with  shoes, 
or  do  work,  above  the  sick-chamber,  and  the 
children  had  better  go  to  school,  and  leave  the 
place  quiet.  "  And,  father,  you'd  better  load  up 
the  Fair-  Weather  and  make  the  trip,  and  take 
Bop  and  the  twins  with  you.  Jerry  can  see 
to  the  work,  and  Pink  and  I  will  take  care  of 
mother." 

"  But,  Robert.  Your  mother — I  can't  go — in- 
deed ;  suppose  your  mother  should  die,  while 
I'm  gone."  The  Captain's  eyes  were  wide  and 
dim,  with  the  horror  of  the  thought  for  him  the 
loss  of  Eliza  would   end  his  universe.     "  It's. 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  145 

wrong,  Robert,  all  wrong.  Women  ought  never 
to  die  first.     Women  know  how  to  take  care  o 
themselves  ;  but  I — but  men — can  never  get  01 
alone."     And  Captain  'Zekiel  leaned  his  head 
on   the  tall  blue-painted  pump,  and  tears  ran 
down  his  rugged  face. 

"  Don't,  don't,  father,"  plead  Robert.  "  She 
won't  die  ;  oh,  I  know  she  won't  die.  We'll 
take  such  care  of  her.  If  the  barge  don't 
go,  she'll  worry,  you  know,  about  needing  the 
money,  and  all — and  she'll  be  quieter  if  Bop 
and  the  twins  are  away.  She'll  be  well  by  the 
time  you  come  back.  Indeed,  she'll  do  better 
if  she  sees  everything  is  going  on  reasonably." 

Indeed,  when  questioned  by  Robert,  'Liza  ex- 
pressed her  strong  wish  that  the  Captain  should 
take  the  younger  children  and  make  the  trip.  So 
the  loading  of  the  barge  was  completed,  and  as 
Robert  showed  himself  an  admirable  nurse,  and 
the  patient  did  not  get  worse,  the  Captain  agreed 
to  make  his  voyage.  In  truth,  he  cheered  up 
a  little  ;  and  seeing  Robert  deftly  brushing 
his  mother's  hair,  the  evening  before  the  Fair- 
Weather  was  to  leave,  the  Captain  even  ven- 
tured a  jest.  "  'Liza,  he  isn't  such  a  Bad  Bar- 
gain after  all ;  and.  'Liza,  he  does  your  hair  a 
deal  more  softly  than  you  did  his,  that  first  even- 
ing, you  know."     For  there  had  been  no  efifort 


146  The  Captains  Bargain. 

made  to  deceive  Robert  as  to  his  place  by  adop- 
tion rather  than  by  birth.  Eliza  was  a  sensible 
woman.  •'  He  sees  we  love  him,  and  do  our 
best  for  him,"  she  said,  "and  if  we  tried  to  hide 
from  him  that  we  found  and  adopted  him,  he 
would  remember  a  little  of  the  truth,  and  the 
whole  of  it  would  come  out  in  some  unpleasant 
way  to  hurt  his  feelings.  It  is  best  to  be  frank 
about  it  from  the  first."  So  as  soon  as  Robert 
was  old  enough  to  understand,  his  coming  to 
the  mill  was  freely  spoken  of. 

Well,  the  Fair  -  Weather  went  down-stream, 
for  the  first  time  in  fourteen  years,  without 
Eliza.  The  poor  Captain  was  heavy-hearted 
as  he  kept  looking  back,  until  the  bend  in  the 
river  hid  his  home  from  his  eyes.  Then,  when 
the  barge  was  out  of  sight,  Robert  and  Pink 
hastened  in  to  their  duties  of  nursing  and  house- 
keeping. 

All  was  very  quiet  at  the  mill.  The  steady 
creak  of  the  wheel  was  a  monotone  to  which 
they  were  so  accustomed  that  no  one  noticed 
it.  The  bees  in  the  row  of  hives,  which  was 
one  of  Jerry's  industries,  hummed  at  their  work, 
and  no  doubt  got  ready  for  swarming  ;  Pink 
borrowed  Mrs.  Britt's  cook-book,  and  made 
beef-tea,  gruel,  panada,  and  toast  water,  and 
chicken  broth,  by  rule  and  letter.     The  doctor 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  147 

said  there  was  not  a  tidier,  quieter  sick-room  in 
his  rounds  than  Robert  kept,  and  Robert  had 
always  something  encouraging  to  tell,  some  new 
attention  to  offer  to  cheer  the  invalid.  But 
'Liza  kept  her  bed,  and  was  weak  and  unable 
to  rally.  She  had  had  a  life  of  hard  work  and 
many  cares,  this  poor  woman,  and  her  system 
had  lost  tone. 

The  Captain  made  the  shortest  trip  on  his 
record.  He  was  in  a  fever  of  haste  to  get  home. 
He  pushed  his  barge  down-stream  or  up-stream 
until  late  at  night.  He  made  short  stops.  What 
use  was  it  to  stop,  when  he  had  not  his  poor 
'Liza  with  him  to  make  pleasant  the  visits  of 
friends  ?  He  thought  sometimes  of  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, and  his  sad  tale  of  losing  his  wife.  Poor 
man,  however  did  he  endure  such  misery  !  Had 
it  been  cruel  to  refuse  to  console  him  with  Rob- 
ert ?  But  then,  if  Captain  'Zekiel  had  given 
away  Robert,  who  at  this  crisis  would  have  been 
the  indefatigable  nurse  of  Eliza,  perhaps  to  the 
saving  of  her  life  ? 

So  the  Captain  hurried  his  expedition.  It  is 
a  pity  that  he  did  not  take  a  little  more  time  to 
it.  He  missed  the  advice,  the  business  perspi- 
cacity of  Eliza,  her  ultimatum  on  each  ven- 
ture. He  was  duller  than  ever  ;  indeed,  he  had 
not  by  any  means  recovered  the  head  he  had 


148  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

lost  when  he  spilled  the  soup  and  burnt  the  pa- 
tient. 

Unluckily,  also,  the  Captain  did  his  little  trad- 
ing with  new  parties.  The  old  acquaintances 
had  sold  out  to  new  firms,  who  saw  in  Captain 
'Zekiel  only  a  man  uncommonly  easy  to  over- 
reach in  a  bargain.  The  incapacity  to  reckon, 
the  dubiousness  as  to  whether  Eliza's  method 
was  to  multiply  or  divide,  was  not  an  occasional 
but  a  chronic  state  with  Captain  'Zekiel.  Un- 
happily, also,  it  made  little  difference  whether 
he  did  multiply  or  divide  ;  by  his  management 
the  result  of  either  method  was  painfully  likely 
to  be  about  the  same. 

Well,  he  traded,  he  got  rid  of  his  cargo,  and 
he  had  something  in  lieu  thereof  ;  and,  aided  by 
a  strong  wind,  he  got  up  the  Schuylkill  in  much 
better  than  usual  time.  But  all  the  way  up 
black  care  sat  on  his  broad  shoulders,  and  whis- 
pered that  he  had  made  a  very  disastrous  trade, 
and  that  he  was  wofully  behindhand,  and  that 
when  his  bills  were  paid  he  would  be  short  of 
money  for  the  June  interest,  and — alas,  Captain 
'Zekiel ! 

He  reached  home,  and  Eliza  was  still  in  bed. 
Her  fever  was  gone,  but  she  was  weak,  white, 
wan,  without  appetite  or  energy.  She  roused  a 
little  to  inquire  the  result  of  the  voyage.     The 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  149 

Captain's  fortitude  was  at  an  end.  He  sat  by 
the  table,  his  head  bowed.  "  I've  made  a  mess 
of  it,  'Liza!  You've  got  a  head,  and  I  haven't. 
I  can't  do  a  thing  without  you  !  There's  all  the 
money  I  brought  back ;  and,  though  I've 
counted  it  a  hundred  times,  I  can't  see  that  I 
have  made  above  a  dollar  or  so  over  the  ex- 
penses." 

"  'ZekJel  Allen,  is  that  all  the  money  you  got  ? 
Is  that  all  you  brought  back  ? "  cried  the  dis- 
mayed Eliza,  her  quick  eye  reading  the  sum 
total  at  a  glance. 

"  No,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel.  "  Mr.  Kemper 
gave  me  as  part  pay  for  the  honey  and  dried 
fruit  and  cheese  fifty  butter-tubs,  ten-pound  and 
twenty-two-pound  tubs,  which  he  says  Snell  the 
butter-dealer  will  give  me  ten  cents  apiece  for, 
and  that's — how  much,  'Liza?" 

"Nothing!"  said  Eliza,  solemnly.  "Snell 
was  buried  the  day  after  you  left.  You've  got 
those  tubs  on  your  hands,  'Zekiel.  What 
else  ?  " 

"  And,  instead  of  money  on  the  hams  and 
popcorn  and  knit  things,  the  new  man  got  me 
to  take  a  barrel — a  hundred  and  seventy  pound 
barrel — of  brown  sugar." 

"  'Zekiel  Allen  !  When  would  we  use  a  bar- 
rel of  brown  sugar,  especially  as  we  are  not  likely 


150  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

to  have  anything  to  eat  it  with  or  a  roof  to  keep 
it  under! " 

The  Captain  groaned.  "  And  I  felt  so  had 
about  you,  'Liza.  I  wanted  to  get  you  some- 
thing, and  I  got  you  a  gown-piece,"  and  the 
Captain  undid  a  brown-paper  parcel  and  showed 
his  gown-piece. 

It  was  a  canary-colored  plain  delaine. 

No  doubt  the  Captain  was  color-blind,  just  as 
he  was  born  without  a  capacity  for  arithmetic. 
Possibly  the  fifty  butter-tubs,  the  barrel  of 
sugar,  and  the  canary-colored  gown  would  have 
killed  a  weaker  woman.  Mrs.  Eliza  was  over- 
whelmed for  an  instant.  Then  she  revived 
from  the  shock.  It  acted  as  a  tonic  upon  her. 
"  'Zekiel  Allen  !  I  see  plainly  if  I  allow  myself 
to  die,  you  and  the  children  will  be  in  the 
county-house  in  six  months.  You  weren't  born 
to  manage  for  yourself,  'Zekiel.  Well,  I  won't 
die !  Robert,  make  me  a  cup  of  tea  and  give 
me  a  soft-boiled  ^gg\  I  must  get  w^ell.  If  I 
don't,  what  will  become  of  you  ?  " 

Joy !  joy  !  The  voyage  had  been  one  disas- 
ter, but  Eliza  was  going  to  get  well !  When- 
ever did  this  admirable  woman  fail  to  keep  her 
pledged  word  ?  Captain  'Zekiel  came  out  of  the 
depths,  a  smile  passed  around  the  family,  play- 
ing from  face  to  face,  as  one  hill  after  another 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  151 

catches  the  illumination  of  the  morning  sun. 
Robert  and  Jerry  retired  to  the  family  council- 
chamber,  the  rubbish-place  among  the  under- 
pinning of  the  mill.  Robert  had  ideas  which  he 
wished  to  have  tested  by  the  practical  Jerry. 

They  seemed  to  be  good  ideas,  for  they  stood 
the  scales  of  Jerry's  judgment  like  full- weight 
gold  coins. 

Robert  returned  to  the  bed-room  and  sat  on 
the  foot  of  'Liza's  bed. 

"Mother!  I  wouldn't  mind  about  the  dress; 
you  can  dye  it  a  beautiful  drab,  and  it  will  be  so 
nice." 

It  is  always  well  in  driving  a  wedge  to  put  it 
in  thin  end  first.  This  was  Robert's  method, 
with  his  plans. 

"  So  I  can,"  said  Mrs.  'Liza. 

"  And,  mother,  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do. 
The  mountain  is  going  to  be  just  covered  with 
berries.  Jerry  says  the  raspberries  and  black- 
berries will  be  just  by  the  bushel.  And  our 
orchard  never  had  such  a  lot  of  apples  set.  Say, 
mother,  you  get  well,  and  we'll  all  pick  the  ber- 
ries, and  bring  them  to  you,  and  we'll  have  a  fire 
out  of  doors,  and  the  big  brass-kettle  on,  and  that 
barrel  of  sugar,  you  know,  we'll  boil  it  into  jam. 
All  the  folks  say  there  never  was  jam  like  yours. 
VVe  will  make  raspberry  jam,  and  blackberry 


152  The  Captaitis  Bargain. 

jam  ;  and  the  wild  plum-trees  are  loaded,  we'll 
have  plum  jam  ;  and  then  we'll  go  for  the  apples, 
and  make  your  splendid  apple-butter  ;  and  we'll 
fill  every  one  of  those  fifty  tubs  with  jam  and 
apple-butter,  and  in  October  we'll  take  the  barge 
down  to  Philadelphia  again.  Jerry  says  we  can 
have  at  least  twenty-five  pounds  of  honey,  and 
it's  a  nut  year,  and  we  can  take  barrels  of  nuts, 
and  we'll  take  down  the  fifty  tubs  full  of  jam 
and  apple-butter,  and  Jerry  says  we  can  have 
two  firkins  of  fall  butter,  if  we  are  careful  of  the 
milk,  so  we'll  make  a  good  load,  and — mother, 
we  won't  sell  to  the  stores.  Jerry  has  been 
reading  about  trade,  and  middle-men,  and  all 
that.  You'll  fill  our  sample-glasses  of  jam  and 
honey  and  jelly ;  we'll  turn  our  currants  all  into 
jelly, — and  I'll  go  straight  to  the  big  hotels  with 
my  samples  for  them  to  taste.  I'll  tell  'em  how 
![^ood  the  things  are,  and  I'll  sell  out  for  more 
than  the  dealers  give.  Perhaps  Mr.  Murray 
knows  a  hotel-keeper  or  some  one  who  has  a 
great  boarding-house,  and  he'll  give  me  a  letter, 
r.nd  you'll  see  I'll  sell." 

Eliza's  energetic  soul  responded  to  this  plan- 
ning. She  came  out  of  her  sickness  a  new  wom- 
an. Captain  'Zekiel  rolled  the  unaccustomed 
burden  of  thinking  off  his  shoulders  and  be- 
took himself  to  working  on  well-planned  lines. 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  153 

Beans  and  pop-corn  grew  for  the  autumn  trip ; 
the  Captain  and  all  the  children  gathered  fruit 
from  dawn  to  dark  all  the  fruit  season  ;  Jerry 
made  lye,  and  soaked  and  scoured  the  tubs  as 
white  as  snow.  Eliza  boiled  jam  and  jelly  and 
apple-butter  in  their  season ;  she  also  dyed  the 
canary-colored  woolen,  and  made  a  new  dress 
for  the  autumn  trip. 

Up  above  Captain  Allen's  mill  is  the  finest 
trout  fishing  of  Schuylkill  County.  >  There  is 
also  some  of  the  most  entrancing  wild-wood  and 
stream  scenery.  The  summer  before  Mrs.  'Liza 
was  ill,  an  artist  and  an  angler  had  come  up 
there  together,  and  had  concocted  glowing  and 
illustrated  articles  about  the  locality  for  a  lead- 
ing magazine.  A  fashion  had  been  set,  and,  in 
August,  up  came  in  detachments  of  two  and 
three,  anglers  and  artists,  and  made  a  camp  on 
Lai's  Mountain.  In  their  corduroy  knee- 
breeches,  their  leather  leggins  and  flannel  shirts, 
they  scoured  the  neighborhood. 

Jerry  need  take  no  chickens,  eggs,  or  butter 
to  Lacy  ;  his  market  was  at  the  door.  Eliza's 
services  were  enlisted  for  making  pies,  biscuits, 
bread,  and  washing  fancy  flannels.  Captain  'Ze- 
kiel  was  kept  busy, — now  mending  this,  now 
making  that ;  or,  again,  building  sheds  for  the 
camp.     Jerry  was  called  upon  to  take  the  place 


154  "^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

of  a  recreant  cook  who  got  drunk  and  was  dis- 
charged, having  nearly  set  the  camp  and  the 
woods  on  fire.  And  Robert  was  in  constant 
demand.  Would  Robert  guide  them  here  or 
there  ?  would  he  take  the  Britt  boat  and  go  to 
Lacy  for  groceries  ?  would  he  bring  their  mail  ? 
would  he  be  drawn  for  a  "  Boy  bathing,"  a 
"  Boy  angling,"  a  "  Fairy  peering  through 
leaves,"  "  A  Satyr  playing  on  pipes  to  a  bird"  ? 
would  he  be  painted  with  Pink  for  the  "  Gipsy 
children  "  ?  would  he  make  them  some  fishing- 
flies?  Robert  was  ready  to  do  all  and  every- 
thing. The  legs,  which  'Liza  had  warned  him 
would  be  "  worn  off"  watering  horses,  were  good 
for  any  demand  for  exertion.  He  was  always 
cheerfully  on  hand.  The  Captain  and  'Liza 
did  not  begrudge  his  services  to  the  strangers. 
None  of  them  considered  whether  he  u^ould 
be  paid.  They  were  generous, — these  people ; 
ready  to  spend  and  be  spent  for  others,  accord- 
ing to  their  ability.  It  was  Eliza's  frequent  ob- 
servation : 

"  We  are  poor ;  we  cannot  give  as  some  can  ; 
but  we  can  do.  We  can  help,  if  we  cannot 
make  presents,  and  all  who  live  in  this  world 
ought  to  be  ready  to  help  their  neighbors." 

So  Eliza  herself  was  always  ready  to  go  and 
give  aid  where  sickness,  death,  or  extra  work 


Robert  Comes  to  the  Rescue.  155 

made  occasion  for  her  services,  and  her  children 
were  all  trained  to  be  helpful. 

The  summer  which  had  begun  so  ill  passed 
more  swiftly  and  joyfully  than  any  summer  for 
years.  The  Captain  and  Eliza  and  Jerry  all 
made  some  money.  When  October  came  the 
anglers  and  artists  were  gone,  but  going  they 
left  a  little  packet  at  the  mill  for  their  willing 
factotum.  Robert  found  in  it  a  new  pocket-book, 
and  therein  three  ten-dollar  bills.  Oh,  joy ! 
He  looked  at  them  in  ecstasy.  He  devoured 
them  with  his  eyes.  He  ran  and  gave  one  to 
Eliza  with  a  hug ;  he  gave  one  to  Captain  'Ze- 
kiel ;  he  gave  the  third  to  Pink.  Then  he  stood 
and  contemplated  his  family,  each  holding  a 
strip  of  green  paper,  as  the  farmer's  family  in 
the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  each  held  an  orange. 

Then  the  barge  Fair-  Weather  was  loaded  up, 
and  made  a  trip,  and  Robert  sold  his  jams  and 
jellies  for  a  good  round  sum,  and  the  Captain 
shook  his  big  head  and  said,  "  Hah  !  That 
sugar-barrel  was  not  such  a  bad  bargain  ! " 


CHAPTER  X. 

ROBERT    PROVES    HIMSELF    A    HERO. 

The  October  voyage  of  the  barge  Fait' 
Weather  having  proved  a  success,  the  Captain, 
Eliza,  Jerry,  and  Robert  counted  up  and  com- 
bined their  summer  earnings,  and  found  them- 
selves better  off  than  they  had  been  for  years. 
The  exhausted  wardrobes  were  replenished,  and 
I'^Jiza  rejoiced  in  making  much-needed  new  bed- 
cling,  and  in  buying  some  new  crockery.  The  in- 
terest money  for  the  whole  year  was  ready,  and 
Captain  'Zekiel  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  his 
wife,  "  'Liza,  do  you  suppose,  if  we  had  some 
more  such  summers,  we  could  repair  the  mill  or 
build  a  new  house  ?  " 

Eliza  shook  her  head.  "  It  would  take  a 
many  such  summers  to  do  either  ;  and  then,  of 
what  use  would  it  be  when  we  are  under  such  a 
mortgage  and  liable  to  be  sold  out  any  day  ?  The 
time  is  coming,  'Zekiel,  when  we  vvHl  Ijave  to 
leave  Lai's  Mountain,  and  I  don't  kncJw  where 
we  shall  go,  or  what  money  we  shall  have  to 
take  us  anywhere." 

(156)  '*' 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero.         157 

"  Don't  be  down-hearted,  Eliza,"  said  'Zekiel. 
"  I  make  sure  we'll  have  better  luck  than  you 
expect.  It  is  a  long  road  that  has  no  turning. 
The  Allen  fortunes  have  been  down-hill  for  two 
generations ;  it  is  time  now  that  they  began  to 
come  up.  In  my  mind's  eye,  Eliza,  I  see  a 
white  house,  with  seven  rooms  and  a  porch,  on 
that  level  spot  a  hundred  yards  above  the  mill. 
We  would  leave  the  great  chestnut  that  is 
there  standing,  so  as  to  shade  the  veranda,  for 
you  to  sit  in  comfort  summer  afternoons.  I 
think  I  see  the  old  mill  repaired  and  doing  more 
business  than  ever,  for  there  is  business  in  the 
county,  still,  in  our  line,  'Liza,  if  we  only  had 
the  machinery  to  meet  it." 

"  Well,  'Zekiel,"  said  Eliza,  with  a  sigh,  "  there 
is  no  harm  in  seeing  these  things  in  your  mind's 
eye,  if  it  gives  you  any  comfort  to  do  so.  And 
I  suppose  the  Lord  knows  what  is  good  for  us, 
and  will  let  us  have  all  that  we  ought.  There's 
a  verse,  '  It  is  good  for  a  man  that  he  bear  the 
yoke  in  his  youth.'  We  seem  to  have  borne  it, 
not  only  all  our  youth,  but  our  middle  age  pretty 
well  through,  also.  But  I  remember  it  is  in 
'  Pilgrim's  Progress '  said,  that  he  is  happy  who 
has  his  best  things  last." 

"  Perhaps  we  will,  Eliza,"  said  Captain  'Ze- 
kiel "  Anyway,  don't  you  be  down-hearted. 
^* 


158  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Things  might  be  worse.  You  might  have  died 
when  you  were  sick,  last  May,  or  Mr.  Wick 
might  have  died,  and  Jones  might  have  fore- 
closed the  mortgage." 

The  Captain  and  Eliza  talked  in  this  fashion, 
when  they  sat  in  the  kitchen  during  the  winter 
days,  when  there  was  no  work  in  the  mill,  the 
children  were  all  up  at  the  red  school-house, 
and  the  sun,  shining  across  the  snow,  filled  the 
kitchen  with  light.  EHza  sitting  near  the  win- 
dow, sewed  on  her  new  sheets  and  pillow-cases ; 
Captain  'Zekiel  behind  the  stove,  made  corn- 
husk  mats  for  sale  ;  and  Jerry  carved  canes  and 
porridge-sticks,  for  which  he  found  a  market 
when  the  Fair-  Wzaiher  made  her  trips.  Also 
Jerry  and  Mrs.  'Liza  were  making  two  notable 
rag  carpets.  "If  we  never  have  a  house  to  put 
them  in,"  said  Mrs.  'Liza,  "we'll  sell  them  for 
money  to  help  us  move.  It  is  well  to  be  ready 
for  whatever  happens." 

The  house  nearest  the  mill  belonged  to  young 
Nelson  Britt.  It  was  built  in  two  low  stories 
with  an  attic  under  the  high  peaked-roof.  The 
attic  ran  across  the  whole  top  of  the  house,  had 
a  window  in  each  gable,  and  was  divided  into 
two  large  rooms  with  a  passage-way  between 
them  where  the  stairs  came  up.  The  windows 
of  the  attic  were  set  in  sashes  that  swung  in- 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero.         159 

ward  on  hinges.  The  Britt  family  was  large, 
and  besides  the  parents  and  children,  there  was 
an  old  hired  man,  and  a  young  married  woman 
of  the  neighborhood,  who  that  winter  helped 
Mrs.  Britt  with  the  work,  for  the  sake  of  a 
home  for  herself  and  young  baby,  her  husband 
having  gone  to  Texas  to  prepare  for  their  set- 
tlement there. 

About  nine  o'clock  one  cold  February  night, 
when  all  the  Britt  family  were  in  bed,  some 
late  passers-up  the  road  discovered  that  the 
house  was  on  fire.  An  instant  and  great  uproar 
rose  in  the  small  settlement,  and  men,  women, 
and  children  rushed  to  the  scene  of  disaster. 
The  house  was  old  and  all  of  wood — water  was 
not  to  be  haft  as  all  things  were  frozen  up. 
The  Britt  family  got  out  their  children  as  fast 
as  possible,  and  half  stupefied  with  smoke,  the 
men  came  down  from  the  attic,  dragging  the 
young  woman,  who  between  sleep  and  suffoca- 
tion, was  not  fully  conscious  until  she  was  in  the 
sharp,  open  air.  Then  with  wild  shrieks  she 
realized  that  her  baby  had  been  left  in  the  bed. 
The  men  had  never  thought  of  it  ;  she  had  not 
known  what  was  going  on  until  she  was  outside 
of  the  house,  and  already  the  single  stairway 
was  a  sheet  of  flame. 

"  Ladders  !      Ladders  !  "    shouted   the   men, 


i6o  The  Captains  Bargain. 

while  the  poor  young  mother,  screaming  for 
her  child,  was  held  back  by  the  worft«n  from 
flinging  herself  back  into  the  burning  stairway. 
"  Ladders  .'  Ladders  !  "  But  the  Britts  had 
lent  their  longest  ladder,  and  the  other  was 
broken.  Some  rushed  to  the  mill  for  a  ladder. 
That  was  far  too  short.  A  cry  of  dismay  told 
that  the  baby  was  doomed.  Then  a  louder  cry 
of  surprise — for  the  window  of  the  woman's 
attic  room  was  flung  open,  and  in  it  stood  Rob- 
ert with  the  baby  in  his  arms.  His  course  was 
evident.  He  had  climbed  up  a  great  pear-tree 
growing  against  the  opposite  gable,  kicked  open 
the  window  of  the  man's  room,  groped  his  way 
to  the  other  room,  and  found  the  child  among 
the  bed-clothes.  Then,  just  in  time  to  save 
himself  and  the  babe  from  suffocation,  he  had 
pulled  open  the  window.  But  the  opened  win- 
dows, creating  a  draught,  had  hastened  the 
flames.  They  had  rushed  up  to  the  top  of 
the  house  and  taken  full  possession  of  the 
landing  and  the  pine  partitions,  so  that  the  dark 
form  of  Robert,  his  handsome  boyish  head,  and 
the  little  white,  night-gowned  bundle  in  his  arms, 
were  ruddily  revealed  against  a  background  of 
flames.  Moreover,  the  flames  were  devouring 
the  room.  He  sat  astride  the  window  for  a  mo- 
ment, while  those  below  consulted  and  dashed 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero,        i6i 

wildly  about.  Then  as  the  red  tongues  reached 
out  to  lick  him  up,  he  dropped  over  the  window 
kdge,  and  hung  by  one  hand  to  the  sill.  It  was 
aa  untenable  position. 

"Drop,  boy!  We'll  catch  you!"  screamed 
the  men.  But  the  stentorian  voice  of  Captain 
'Zekiel  rose  over  all.  "  My  son  !  Hold  on  ! " 
The  distance  was  a  long  one,  the  ground  was 
frozen  like  rock.  If  Robert  fell  and  was  not 
caught  his  case  was  hopeless. 

"  He  can't  hold  on  ! "  cried  the  women  But 
Robert  ducked  his  head,  and  the  next  instant 
was  holding  by  both  hands.  He  had  seized  the 
baby's  clothes  by  his  teeth,  and  thus  held  the 
child,  resting  against  his  upward  strained  arms. 

Almost  every  one  has  at  least  one  chance  in 
life  to  show  what  is  in  him,  and  come  grandly 
to  the  front  of  his  fellows.  This  was  the  chance 
of  the  strong  Captain  'Zekiel.  A  few  things 
had  been  carried  from  the  burning  house, — 
among  them  a  large  table.  As  soon  as  he  saw 
Robert  at  the  window  the  Captain  took  in  the 
situation,  and  sprang  to  drag  forward  the  table. 
When  he  cried  "  Hold  on  !"  he  was  setting  it 
in  place.  "  Hold  it  firm  ! "  he  said,  and  the 
crowd  sprang  to  brace  it  on  all  sides.  "  Britt 
and  Peters  !  Up  here  !  Clasp  together  !  Brace 
yourselves.      Bear  my  weight."     And  Captain 


i62  The  Captains  Bargain. 

'Zekiel  had  the  two  strongest  fellows  of  the 
hamlet  locked  together,  and  was  up  upon  their 
shoulders,  and  standing  firmly,  reaching  up  to 
his  full  height  cried,  "Drop  now,  my  son!" 
Robert,  at  the  very  end  of  his  strength,  dropped 
like  a  shot.  The  men  swayed,  but  did  not  fall. 
Robert  fell  into  the  Captain's  arms  ;  the  Cap- 
tain bent  forwaid  and  set  him  on  the  table. 
Robert  bent  forward,  and  laid  the  rescued  baby 
in  the  outstretched  arms  of  its  frantic  mother. 
And  then  the  roaring  huzzas  of  the  men,  and 
the  shriller  acclamations  of  the  v/omen,  voiced 
their  approval  of  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

'*  I  vow  that's  a  splendid  boy  of  Allen's,"  said 
Deacon  Britt,  next  morning  at  breakfast,  to  the 
schoolmaster.  "  That  was  bravely  acted  last 
night.  He  ought  to  have  something  done  for 
him." 

"  The  time  may  come  to  do  something  for 
him,"  said  the  master,  "if  it  does  not  happen,  as 
seems  to  me  to  be  likely,  that  he  does  all  that 
is  needed  for  himself,  and  something  for  other 
people.  But  let  us  not  spoil  the  spontaneous 
l)eauty  of  his  present  deed,  by  talk  of  reward. 
Let  him  have,  for  a  time  at  least,  that  best  re- 
ward, the  consciousness  that  he  thought  wisely, 
j'.'jted  bravely  and  promptly,  and  saved  a  human 
hie." 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero,         163 

In  truth,  Robert  seemed  to  plume  himself 
ve^y  little  on  his  action.  "It  was  easy  enough 
to  climb  the  old  pear-tree,"  he  said,  "  he  had 
climbed  it  lots  of  times,  and  got  into  the  attic 
window  by  it  too,  when  he  was  playing  with 
the  Britt  boys.  He  saw  that  the  baby  had  been 
left,  almost  as  soon  as  the  mother  saw  it,  and 
he  couldn't  help  but  see  the  only  way  to  get  at 
it  in  time.  He  knew  his  father  would  manage 
some  way  to  get  him  down  from  the  window." 

In  spite  of  this  lucid  explanation  of  the 
affair,  Robert  was  the  hero  of  the  winter,  and 
the  absent  father  of  the  rescued  baby  wrote 
that  if  Robert  would  come  to  Texas,  he  would 
go  halves  with  him  in  any  place  he  succeeded  in 
opening  up  for  a  home. 

That  was  a  hard  winter,  the  severest  for  years. 
The  snow  lay  deep  upon  the  hills — thawed  much 
in  January,  filling  the  creeks,  then  a  heavy 
freeze  came  on  and  converted  the  streams  into 
almost  solid  beds  of  ice,  and  more  snow  piled 
up  on  the  hills.  Then,  all  at  once,  in  the  last 
week  in  March,  came  south  winds  blowing 
softly,  and  suns  that  seemed  hot  enough  for 
May ,  so  that  the  streams  would  be  flushed  to 
their  brims  when  the  storming  waters  uplifted 
and  rent  the  masses  of  ice.  In  the  joy  of  warm  air, 
sunshine,  grass  growing  hourly  green,  and  blue- 


164  The   Captains  Bargain. 

birds  and  robins  flitting  about  every  bush  and 
tree,  every  one  was  out  and  busy.  1  he  barge 
Fair -Weather  had  suffered  from  the  winter, 
and  the  Captain,  Robert,  and  Jerry  were  busy 
repairing  both  it  and  the  mill-wheel.  It 
was  Saturday,  and  the  children  were  all  home 
from  school.  The  creek  w^as  very  full,  and 
blocks  of  ice  were  sailing  upon  its  swollen,  toss- 
ing surface.  The  Captain  was  in  the  mill  se- 
lecting some  lumber ;  Jerry  and  Robert  plied 
saw  and  adze  on  the  bank ;  Bop  and  the  twins 
careering  about,  leaped  now  upon  and  now  off 
the  Fair -Weather  as  she  was  moored  to  the 
bank. 

'  "  Children,"  cried  Eliza,  "  come  off  that  boat. 
If  you  fall  over,  you  will  be  drowned." 

Bop  obeyed,  but  the  twins  were  the  children 
of  the  family  w^ho  occasionally  ventured  diso- 
bedience. At  this  instant  the  demon  of  rebel- 
lion took  possession  of  them.  They  danced  on 
the  deck,  and  did  not  come.  Eliza  was  laying 
out  clothes  to  bleach  on  the  grass.  She  looked 
at  her  recreant  offspring. 

"  Pink,  go  bring  me  those  twins.  I  shall  tie 
them  up  until  they  learn  to  come  when  they're 
called." 

Pink  juinpod  upon  the  Fair- Weather  and 
set  out  to  catch  or  chase  on  shore  the  naiiglity 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero.        165 

twins.  But  at  that  minute  a  wild  roar  was 
heard  ;  the  creek  tossed  tumultuously  ;  the  ice- 
gorge  had  given  way  with  a  rush  ;  an  avalanche 
of  ice  and  water  swept  down  against  the  Fair- 
Weather  ;  her  old  cable  broke  ;  she  swung  from 
shore.  Eliza  shrieked  for  the  Captain.  Jerry 
dashed  toward  the  bank,  but  experienced  the 
disadvantages  of  a  wooden  leg, — his  leg  stuck 
in  the  soft  sod  and  held  him  fast.  Robert  not 
being  blessed  with  a  wooden  leg,  cleared  the  dis- 
tance and  flung  himself  upon  the  Fair-Weath- 
er s  tiller,  which  had  just  been  repaired.  The 
Captain  appeared,  Jerry  got  his  leg  out  of  the 
hole,  Eliza  and  Bop  ran  to  the  brink.  The 
Fair-  Weather  was  out  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream  and  sweeping  toward  Lacy  faster  than 
she  ever  went  before. 

"  I'll  take  care  of  them,  mother,"  shouted  the 
young  captain  of  the  suddenly  improvised  ex- 
pedition, bending  to  the  tiller  to  keep  his  craft 
amid-stream. 

The  wicked  twins,  thus  promptly  brought  to 
judgment,  dropped  themselves  on  their  faces  on 
the  deck,  and  their  wails  pierced  the  heart  of  their 
lately  wrathful  mother.    Pink  looked  at  Robert. 

"  Put  all  your  strength  on  the  tiller  with  me, 
Pink,"  said  Robert;  "you  and  I  will  sail  this 
l)oat  to  Lacy, — don't  be  afraid." 


i66  The   Captains  Bargain. 

Mr.  Murray  had  just  come  up  to  the  Moun- 
tain, and  was  nearing  the  mill  on  horseback. 
He  saw  what  had  happened,  and,  turning  his 
horse  to  the  stream,  followed  on  the  bank  the 
course  of  the  headlong  voyage  of  the  Fair- 
Weather.  Young  Britt  had  just  saddled  a 
horse  to  ride  to  Lacy.  The  Captain  seized 
that  without  ceremony  and  dashed  after  the 
Superintendent.  The  creek  roared  and  foamed 
above  its  banks ;  the  ice-blocks  hurled  here  and 
there ;  the  clumsy,  crazy  old  barge  plunged 
along — the  twins  lying  screaming  on  the  deck. 
Bending  all  their  strength  upon  the  tiller  were 
the  bareheaded,  handsome  fourteen-year-old  lad 
in  his  patched  and  shabby  raiment,  and  little 
Pink,  her  auburn  curls  streaming  out  in  the 
breeze  and  her  thin  cotton  frock  blown  about 
her  ^s  she  followed  the  motions  of  Robert's 
arms,  and  he  kept  his  eyes  steadily  fixed  as  he 
steered  the  barge  clear  of  the  snags  and  rocks 
and  debris  that  would  have  wrecked  her  crazy 
frame  and  flung  all  her  passengers  into  the 
seething  flood. 

A  new  bridge  had  been  built  at  Lacy.  Would 
it  stand  the  freshet  and  the  ice-gorge  ?  If  it 
did  stand,  could  Robert's  arm  guide  the  Fair- 
Weather  between  the  great  piers  of  the  bridge  ? 
If  he  put  her  through  safely,  could  he  turn  her 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero.         167 

toward  the  bank,  where  the  broadening  of  the 
river  would  greatly  reduce  the  force  of  the  cur- 
rent ?  These  thoughts  were  in  the  heads  of  the 
two  frantic  men  who  rode  along  the  bank  pre- 
pared to  fling  themselves  into  the  water,  to  res- 
cue the  children  or  perish  with  them  if  the  poor 
barge  went  to  pieces. 

The  twins  sat  up  on  the  deck  and  increased 
the  misery  of  the  occasion  by  holding  out  their 
arms  and  wildly  screaming  "  Father  ! "  On  they 
went.  It  seemed  to  Captain  Allen  and  the  Su- 
perintendent that  it  must  be  hours  since  they 
began  to  follow  that  barge  down-stream.  Other 
people  came  out  to  cry  and  wonder,  and  other 
men  on  horseback  turned  about  and  rode  with 
them,  and  they  knew  that  the  strength  of  the 
boy  must  be  nearly  exhausted  struggling  with 
his  unwieldy  craft,  and  that  the  gallant  little 
girl  at  his  side,  doing  her  best,  was  lending  but 
small  aid.  They  saw  the  twins,  as  if  obeying  an 
order,  rise  and  lean  also  on  the  tiller.  The  chil- 
dren were  now  grouped  together.  The  bridge 
was  in  sight.  People  began  to  throng  the  banks 
and  the  bridge.  Some  men  hastily  untied  row- 
boats  and  got  out  oars  and  ropes  to  follow  the 
barge.  They  were  near  the  bridge.  The  water 
boiled  under  the  arches  in  fury ;  the  ice-blocks 
crashed  against  them  and  piled  up  on  the  banks. 


1 68  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Robert  fixed  his  gaze  steadily  on  the  widest 
space, — the  space  between  the  piers. 

"  He'll  make  it ! "  roared  some. 

"  He'll  miss  it!"  shouted  others. 

The  boy  seemed  to  calculate  marvellously  well 
the  force  and  bearing  of  the  current.  On,  on, 
under  !  He  had  bent  all  his  young  strength 
upon  the  tiller,  and  through  the  arch,  almost 
grazing  the  pier,  went  the  barge  ;  and  then 
Robert  bore  for  the  nearer  shore,  where  the 
widening  waters  went  with  less  furious  rush. 
Boats  put  out  to  help  him  if  they  might,  but  he 
got  his  craft  out  of  the  surge  of  the  midstream, 
and  then  brought  her  round  toward  the  cove  and 
grounded  the  Fair-Weather  at  last  on  the  sub- 
merged bank, — the  poor  old  craft  settling  as  if 
in  relief  upon  the  soft,  muddy  shore. 

The  boats  were  about  them  now.  The  men 
leaped  on  the  deck.  The  proud  Captain  saw 
them  shaking  Robert's  hands  and  patting  Pink's 
tumbled  head,  and  he  and  Mr.  Murray  rode 
into  the  water  until  it  rose  above  their  horses' 
knees, — they  were  in  such  haste  to  be  a  little 
nearer  the  rescued  children. 

Then  the  boats  landed  the  little  crew  upon 
dry  ground,  and  the  Fair-Weather  was  made 
fast  by  cables,  and  no  less  than  three  carriages 
were  promptly  offered  to  convey  the  children 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero.        169 

back  to  their  distracted  mother.  And  as  Cap- 
tain Allen  drove  out  of  town  with  his  three  chil 
dren,  and  Robert  mounted  on  the  Britt  horsv 
rode  close  behind,  with  the  Superintendent  a<: 
his  side  on  the  roan,  there  was  a  deal  o: 
**  Hooray!"  and  "Good  luck!"  and  waving 
of  hats  to  congratulate  the  young  captain  on 
the  safe  conclusion  of  his  short  and  perilous 
voyage. 

Mr.  Murray  remained  to  supper  at  the  mill 
He  invited  himself.  Secretly,  Captain  Allen 
felt  that  it  was  not  fair ;  he  was  jealous  of  the 
Superintendent's  interest,  and  begrudged  shar- 
ing with  him  the  triumph  and  joy  of  the  occa- 
sion. Captain  'Zekiel  was  ashamed  of  this  feel- 
ing ;  he  tried  to  hide  it.  After  such  a  merciful 
deliverance  of  his  family,  it  was  an  enormous 
sin  to  wish  that  lonely  Mr.  Murray  should  not 
share  the  joy.  The  Captain  had  heard  a  sermon 
preached  on  the  two  creditors,  and  he  tried  to 
rebuke  the  grudging  of  his  heart  by  going  under 
the  mill  and  recalling  the  text  of  that  sermon. 

"  O  thou  wicked  servant,  I  forgave  thee  all 
that  debt,  when  thou  desiredst  me  :  shouldst  thou 
not  have  had  compassion  on  thy  fellow-servant, 
even  as  I  had  pity  on  thee  ?  " 

Then  he  took  himself  to  task,  and  assured 
himself  that  if  he  cherished  such  mean  feelings, 


170  The  Captains  Bar  gam. 

he  would  one  day  surely  lose  Robert  altogether 
— as  a  judgment — and  serve  him  right. 

After  thus  dealing  with  himself,  he  returned 
to  the  kitchen,  where  Eliza  was  hugging  her 
four  children  in  turn,  having  condoned  the  dis- 
obedience of  the  twins,  and  Jerry  was  getting 
their  best  supper  of  ham  and  eggs  and  fried  po- 
tatoes, and  Mrs.  Britt  was  standing  with  tears 
in  her  eyes,  and  in  one  hand  a  great  loaf  of 
cake — which  had  just  been  baked  for  her  own 
tea,  but  was  brought  over  as  an  offering  to  Rob- 
ert,— and  in  the  other  hand  her  one  sole  jar  of 
pineapple  preserves  to  further  grace  this  festive 
occasion. 

During  the  evening  all  the  neighbors  came 
in,  one  after  another,  and  to  all  the  Captain 
with  growing  joy  told  his  tale.  He  could  never 
be  weary  of  describing  how  Robert  had  man- 
aged the  Fair-Weathe7',  how  the  boy  had  not 
been  one  whit  afraid,  how  he  had  remembered 
every  snag  and  every  twist  and  turn,  and  what 
muscle  he  had  exhibited  !  And  he  patted  Rob- 
ert's back,  and  held  out  his  arm  with  pride  in 
its  development,  and  gloried  in  the  possession 
of  such  a  son. 

Meanwhile,  the  unhappy  Superintendent  was 
consumed  with  envy.  Why  w^as  not  this  boy 
his  ?     Why  could  not  he  claim  the  little  hero  ? 


Robert  proves  himself  a  Hero.         171 

"  Allen,  Allen,"  he  groaned  aside,  "  you  keep 
him  here,  and  some  day,  if  you  would  give  him 
up,  I  could  make  a  millionaire  of  him,  perhaps." 

"  Would  1  give  up  a  boy  who  has  just  saved 
all  my  family  ! "  cried  the  Captain,  "  'Liza, 
you  didn't  think  when  I  brought  home  such  a 
Bad  Bargain,  that  stormy  night,  that  he'd  save 
your  three  children  from  drowning,  eh  ?" 

The  Superintendent  clenched  his  hands.  Why, 
why  had  he  not  been  the  one  to  rescue  the  lit- 
tle boy  from  relatives  who  were  going  to  send 
him  to  the  poorhouse  ?  "  Robert,"  he  whis- 
pered, "  I'll  give  you  a  watch  to  mark  this  day." 

"Oh,  no,  please.  I  couldn't  wear  a  watch 
when  we  are  so  poor,  and  father  hasn't  any," 
said  Robert,  flushing. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

THE    WOMAN    WHO    WENT    ON    A    LONG  JOURNEY. 

The  Fair-  Weather  made  a  more  orderly  voy- 
age in  June,  and  returned  in  safety.  In  July 
the  tourists  of  the  preceding  summer  came  back. 
Jerry  was  engaged  as  camp  cook;  Robert  as  be- 
fore was  constantly  in  requisition.  The  camp 
was  on  the  creek,  about  half  a  mile  above  the 
mill,  and  on  the  opposite  side,  at  an  especially 
wild  and  beautiful  spot.  As  there  was  so  much 
going  to  and  fro  between  the  camp  arid  the 
Aliens'  home,  the  young  men  of  the  camp  asked 
the  Captain  to  build  a  bridge  across  the  creek, 
placing  it  just  above  the  wheel,  and  extending 
from  the  creek  side  of  the  mill  to  the  opposite 
bank.  The  bridge  was  made  by  setting  four  or 
five  logs  firmly  upright  in  the  stream-bed  among 
the  rocks,  laying  broad  planks  from  log  to  log, 
and  supplying  the  slight  structure  with  a  single 
hand-rail.  For  agile  and  steady-headed  people 
it  was  safe  enough,  now  that  the  creek  was  low 
for  summer,  and  the  Allen  children  ran  across 
it  with  the  celerity  and  security  of  cats. 
(172) 


A  Long  Journey.  173 

There  was  a  day  in  August  when  the  school- 
house  congregation  had  their  Sunday-school  pic- 
nic. Everybody  went,  both  small  and  great ; 
it  was  the  gathering  of  the  year.  This  year  the 
place  chosen  was  five  miles  away,  and  the  start 
was  made  early  in  wagons  laden  with  children, 
baskets,  and  grown  people. 

Mrs.  'Liza  and  her  children  all  went.  Captain 
'Zekiel  did  not  go,  he  must  stay  to  look  after 
the  little  work  at  the  mill.  Robert  did  not  go. 
One  of  the  artists  at  the  camp  was  painting 
Robert  as  'The  Young  Woodsman,"  and  was 
in  haste  to  get  the  picture  done,  so  Robert  had 
to  spend  the  morning  posing  with  an  axe,  and 
a  log,  and  a  tame  squirrel,  one  of  Jerry's  numer- 
ous pets,  perched  on  his  shoulder  while  he  fed 
it.  Robert  set  off  up  to  the  camp  with  his 
usual  bright  face.  "  I'll  come  back  at  noon, 
father,  and  cook  our  dinner.  I'll  make  you  an 
omelette,  just  as  Jerry  makes  at  the  camp." 

The  Captain  was  left  alone  at  the  mill.  When 
the  sun-dial  near  the  bee-hives  marked  noon, 
the  Captain  had  a  visitor.  It  was  not  Robert. 
A  big,  bloated,  red-faced,  untidy  woman  came 
in  at  the  mill  door — and  someway,  when  the 
Captain  saw  her,  his  heart  sank.  "  Be  you  Cap- 
ting  i\llen  ? "  said  the  woman.  The  Captain 
nodded 


174  '^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

"  'Long  about  ten  year  ago,  last  spring,  April 
it  was,  you  picked  up  a  little  boy  on  the  road- 
side down  in  Lacy,  and  you  fetched  him  home, 
and  took  care  of  him,  didn't  you  ?" 

The  Captain  nodded  again.  Dumb  terror 
gripped  his  heart. 

"  He's  my  boy,  and  I've  come  to  take  him 
away,"  said  the  woman  with  assurance. 

"Your  boy?"  shouted  the  Captain. 

"  Yes ;  he's  my  boy.  I  wouldn't  have  left 
him  so  long,  only  I've  had  a  dreadful  run  of 
hard  luck.  I  was  sick  a  long  time,  and  out  of 
my  head — and  in  a  hospital — and  a  poorhouse — ■ 
and  I'm  one  of  them  as  never  has  no  good  luck 
happen  to  them.  But  now  I've  come  to  get 
my  boy.  Where  is  he  ?  You  just  tell  him 
that  his  mother,  his  dear  lovin'  mother's  come 
to  get  him." 

"  His  mother  !"  cried  the  dazed  and  wretched 
Captain;  "you  his  mother?  If  you  were  his 
mother,  why  did  you  leave  him  ?  What  did  you 
leave  him  for,  I  say  ?" 

"  I  didn't  go  to  leave  him,  Capting,"  said  the 
woman.  "  I  felt  mortal  sick,  and  he  was  little 
and  tired,  and  I  says  to  him,  *  Sit  there,  honey,  till 
I  come  back.'  And  I  laid  out  to  get  some  medi- 
cine and  a  little  glass  of  something  to  strengthen 
me.     And  I  got  worse,  and  out  of  my  head 


A   Long  Journey.  175 

like,  and  I  lost  my  way,  and  couldn't  find  where 
I  left  him,  and  I  wandered,  and — I  got  carried  to 
a  hospital  sick — and  so  it  went  on  ;  and  now,  at 
last,  I  says,  *  I  must  have  back  my  boy,  my 
dear,  sweet,  pretty  boy,'  so  I  found  my  way 
back,  and  inquired,  and  it  was  told  me,  Capting 
Allen  of  the  mill  had  took  the  boy,  and  so  I 
come  up  here  to  you,  and  much  obliged  I  am 
to  you,  indeed — and  not  to  trouble  you  any 
longer  with  him.  Seeing  he's  mine,  I'll  take  him 
along  back  with  me  to-day,  so  call  him  to  go 
with  his  dear  mother." 

"  You  sha'n't  have  him,"  bellowed  the  Cap- 
tain ;  "  he's  been  my  boy  this  ten  years.  I'll 
hold  him  against  the  world." 

"  Is  he  bound  to  you  ?  Did  you  get  papers 
made  out  ?"  demanded  the  claimant,  eagerly. 

No  ;  the  Captain  had  not  gone  through  that 
formality.  He  had  found  the  child,  and  kept 
him,  and  the  boy  had  grown  into  his  heart  and 
life. 

"  He's  mine,"  said  the  woman.  "  I  can  prove 
it.  I  mean  to  have  him.  He's  coming  with  his 
dear  mother.  Who  else  will  support  me  in  my 
old  age,  if  not  my  son  ?  " 

"  You  forsook  him.  I've  raised  him.  You 
are  not  fit  to  have  him.  You  are  drunken.  I 
smell  liquor  on  your  breath  this  minute  !     You 


176  The  Captains  Bargain. 

sha'n't  have  him.  If  you  come  up  here  think- 
ing to  get  money  from  me  for  the  boy,  you're  all 
out.  I  haven't  any  money  ;  I'm  as  poor  as 
Job's  turkey,  but  I'll  not  give  you  the  boy. 
We'll  have  the  matter  before  the  court.  We'll 
see  if  the  boy  is  to  be  taken  from  decent  folks 
to  be  lugged  off  to  the  city  slums  by  a  woman 
like  you  ! " 

"  I'll  have  him,"  said  the  woman,  excitedly  ; 
"  I  will.  Where  is  the  boy  ?  I'll  tell  him  his 
dear  mother  needs  him,  and  he  must  come  and 
do  for  me  like  a  good  son." 

Then  over  the  Captain's  troubled  mind  rolled 
the  great  horror  of  having  this  woman,  this 
foul,  leering,  drunken  creature,  see  the  clean, 
simple,  handsome,  generous,  loving  boy,  and 
claim  to  be  his  mother.  What  an  awful  revela- 
tion for  the  lad  reared  by  the  just,  sensible, 
womanly  Eliza,  to  be  called  son  by  this  dread- 
ful creature  !  He  changed  his  tone  ;  he  must 
iXet  her  away  before  Robert  came.  Deacon 
Britt  was  the  nestor  and  arbiter  of  the  hamlet  ; 
he  had  been  a  justice  of  the  peace  ;  he  was  a 
firm  friend  of  Robert  and  the  Aliens;  he  should 
give  his  counsel.  "  The  boy  isn't  here,"  said  the 
Captain,  "  he's  away  ;  but  you  come  up  with 
me  to  Squire  Britt's,  and  tell  your  story,  and 
give  your  proof,  and  we'll  see  how  to  settle  it. 


A  Long  Journey,  177 

Come  along  quick,  I'm  in  a  hurry  ;  I've  work 
to  do." 

But  the  woman  was  full  of  drunken  cunning. 

"  I  won't  go  until  I  see  the  boy.  Go  on  with 
your  work.  I'll  wait  for  him.  What  does  a 
woman  feel  waiting  to  see  her  own  dear,  pretty 
boy  after  ten  years,  and  she  a  good,  loving 
mother  as  ever  lived  !" 

The  Captain  clenched  his  hands  and  gritted 
his  teeth.  In  his  fury  he  felt  like  picking  up  a 
stick  and  cleaving  the  woman's  head.  "  I'd 
sooner  kill  you  than  let  you  have  him  ! "  he 
roared  in  a  transport  of  fury. 

"  A  nice  man  you  are  to  bring  up  a  boy," 
cried  the  woman,  who  belonged  to  the  unstam* 
pedable.  "  I  want  my  child  !  Where  is  my 
boy  !  My  son,  my  son,  come  to  your  dear 
mother  !" 

Alas  !  the  Captain,  looking  across  the  stream, 
saw  Robert,  joyous,  running  down  the  path  to- 
ward the  bridge.  Beside  himself  with  distress, 
he  foolishly  cried,  "  There  he  is — hush  !  hush  ! 
hold  your  tongue,  I  say  ! " 

"  Oh,  there  he  is  ;  that's  my  boy,  is  it,  running 
to  meet  his  own  dear,  loving  mother  ?" 

Robert's  foot  was  on  the  bridge.  "  Robert," 
shouted  the  Captain,  "stay  where  you  are  !  Do 
not  come  on  this  side  of  the  creek  ! " 


178  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Robert  was  not  one  of  those  pleasing  young 
people,  who  being  told  to  do  something,  do 
quite  the  contrary,  and  then  ask  what  the  order 
meant.  Nor  did  he  belong  to  that  other  variety, 
who  meet  a  command  with,  '  why  '  and  '  oh,  no ' 
and  '  I  won't.'  If  his  father  said,  "  Don't  cross 
the  bridge,"  very  good  ;  Robert  did  not  cross 
the  bridge,  though  his  foot  was  already  on  it. 
If  his  father  wanted  him  to  stay  on  that  side  of 
the  creek,  very  good  ;  he  could  stay  there,  why 
not  ?  He  sat  on  the  grass,  and  taking  off  his 
old  chip  hat,  let  the  cool  breeze  fan  his  heated 
face. 

*'  I'll  call  him  over,"  said  the  woman,  angrily. 

"  If  I  tell  him  to  stop  where  he  is,  he'll  do  it, 
if  you  call  till  you  drop,"  retorted  the  wrathful 
Captain. 

*'  Then  I'll  holler  at  him,  and  tell  him  I'm  his 
dear  mother  as  lost  him,  pitiful,  and  he's  to  come 
and  take  care  of  his  dear  loving  mother." 

"  If  you  call  one  word  at  him,  I'll  shout  to 
him  to  run  back  to  the  camp,  and  he'll  go  like  a 
shot,"  retorted  the  Captain,  purple  in  the  face. 

Oh,  how  he  wished  for  Eliza  or  somebody  to 
tell  him  what  to  do. 

"  Then  I'll  go  over  to  him,"  said  the  woman. 
"  I'll  go  over  and  follow  him  to  the  camp,  or 
clear  round  the  world.     I'll  have  my  son.     A 


A  Long  Journey.  179 

pretty  thieving  man  you  are  to  keep  parted  a 
mother  and  her  boy  !  " 

She  started  for  the  wide  back-door  of  the 
mill,  on  the  threshold  of  which  rested  the  first 
plank  of  the  bridge. 

"Don't  go!  Don't  cross!  Stop,  woman,  I 
say  ! "  cried  the  Captain. 

Not  that  he  feared  for  her ;  his  family  crossed 
there  dozens  of  times  daily.  It  was  Robert  for 
whom  he  feared. 

The  woman  went  on.  The  bridge  was  nar- 
row and  high  over  the  howling  creek  for  an  un- 
steady head.  Moreover,  for  the  part  near  the 
mill,  the  planks  were  wet  and  slippery,  being 
constantly  spattered  with  drops  from  the  wheel. 
The  woman  had  gone  but  a  few  steps  when  her 
feet  slipped,  her  drunken  brain  reeled,  her  hand 
relaxed  its  grasp  from  the  rail,  and  she  plunged 
headlong  into  the  rocky  bed  of  the  creek.  The 
creek  was  low.  The  water,  deeper  where  she 
fell,  rolled  her  round  once  or  twice  and  bore  her 
into  a  shallow. 

Robert,  seated  on  the  farther  bank,  saw  a 
strange  woman  essay  to  cross  and  then  fall. 
He  flung  himself  to  the  rescue,  a  few  strides, 
where  the  creek  was  shallow.  A  few  swimming 
strokes  in  the  middle,  and  he  had  reached  the 
woman  and  lifted  her  head  above  the  water, 


i8o  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Meanwhile  the  Captain  had  hurried  down  the 
other  bank  and  plunged  into  the  water  below 
the  wheel  and  came  to  the  two. 

"  She's  fainted,  or  something,"  said  Robert. 
"  She  couldn't  drown  in  that  little  minute  in  the 
v/ater." 

The  Captain  lifted  her  by  the  waist,  her  head 
i:anging  against  his  arms. 

"Take  up  her  feet,  Robert,"  he  said,  "and 
v/e'll  carry  her  into  the  kitchen." 

Robert  wrapped  the  ragged  wet  garments 
about  her  knees,  lifted  her  feet  as  his  father 
said,  and  they  struggled  up  the  bank  with  their 
l;eavy,  dripping  burden  and  laid  her  in  the 
kitchen  on  the  wide  soft  lounge  which  was 
Pink's  bed  at  night.  They  took  off  her  wet 
dress  and  shoes  and  stockings.  Robert  took 
a  towel  and  rubbed  her  head,  arms,  and  feet. 

"  Get  mother's  camphor-bottle,  father,  and 
bathe  her  face,"  he  said,  returning  to  his  author- 
ity as  chief  nurse  of  the  Allen  home. 

The  Captain  followed  orders. 

"  She  isn't  dead ;  her  heart  beats,"  said  Rob- 
ert, "  and  I  see  a  little  quiver  here  in  her  throat. 
Father,  the  doctor  goes  about  noon  every  day  to 
see  old  Mrs.  Long  ;  go  and  see  if  you  can  catch 
him  to  come  here  and  I'll  keep  on  rubbing  her." 

The  Captain  hurried  off  in  silence.    He  feared 


A  Long  Journey.  i8i 

to  leave  the  boy  alone  with  the  woman,  lest  she 
revive  and  speak,  but  the  whole  succession  of 
these  events  prostrated  his  understanding.  He 
could  merely  do  each  thing  as  it  came  up.  A 
doctor  was  needed.  Well,  he  would  call  the 
doctor.  Had  he  been  the  means  of  getting  the 
woman  into  the  creek  ?  No  ;  surely  not.  He 
had  called  to  her  not  to  cross  the  bridge.  True, 
he  had  felt  ready  to  kill  her, — but  would  he  have 
done  it  ?  Evidently  no.  He  went  into  the  wa- 
ter to  save  her. 

Thus  his  brain  ran  on  as  he  hurried  to  Mrs. 
Long's,  and  luckily  found  the  doctor. 

Robert,  left  alone  with  the  wreck  of  humanity 
on  the  lounge,  regarded  her  with  horror.  Her 
soiled,  torn  under-clothing,  her  bloated  frame,  the 
face  set  in  unconsciousness,  but  bearing  marks 
of  years  of  drunken  sin, — these  sickened  the  boy, 
whose  native  refinement  was  great,  and  who  had 
been  reared  in  cleanness  and  innocence  by  Eliza 
Allen.  He  went  to  the  blue  chest,  got  out  a 
clean  sheet  and  laid  it  over  the  figure  on  the 
lounge.  Then  he  got  a  brush  and  smoothed  her 
hair  and  twisted  it  up  as  well  as  he  could.  Next 
he  put  a  few  drops  of  ammonia  in  water,  and 
slowly  poured  them  into  the  woman's  mouth. 
This  seemed  to  revive  her.  She  opened  her 
eyes  and  regarded  Robert  with  a  heavy  stare 


1 82  The  Captains  Bargain. 

that  seemed  to  see  nothing.  There  were  mists 
before  her  eyes. 

*•  Brandy,"  she  whispered,  *•  give  me  some 
brandy." 

"  We  haven't  any,"  said  Robert.  "I'll  make 
you  some  tea."  Eliza  had  a  little  kettle  over  a 
lamp.  He  lit  the  lamp,  put  a  few  tablespoon- 
fuls  of  water  in  the  kettle,  and  hastily  made 
some  strong  tea.  He  sweetened  it,  and  began 
to  feed  it  to  her.  She  swallowed  feverishly. 
Then  said : 

"  Gin,  boy  ;  gin  !  A  drop  of  gin,  or  brandy, 
or— or " 

"  We  haven't  any  ;  here,  take  this,"  said  Rob- 
ert, and  he  put  a  drop  or  two  of  ammonia  into 
the  tea.     "  Take  this." 

She  took  it,  but  groaned,  and  closed  her 
eyes.  Then  Captain  Allen  came  in  with  the 
doctor.  The  doctor  was  a  skilful  man,  learned 
in  accidents  among  the  mines  and  lumber-camps 
of  the  county.  He  began  to  handle  the  patient, 
pressing  here  and  there,  lifted  her  eyelids,  then 
raised  her  up.     She  turned  white  with  a  cry. 

"  She  was  only  in  the  water  a  minute  or  two," 
said  Robert. 

"Pitched  off  the  bridge,  did  she?"  said  the 
doctor.  "  Dizzy  ;  she  had  been  drinking.  Who 
is  she?" 


A  Long  Journey.  183 

"  We  don't  know,  we  never  saw  her  before," 
said  Robert. 

"  She  came  into  the  mill — she  wanted  to 
cross  the  creek  on  the  bridge,  and  I  told  her  to 
keep  off,"  said  Captain  Allen. 

•'  What  did  she  want  ?  what  did  she  say  ? " 
asked  the  doctor. 

"  She — wanted  to  see  some  one — on  the  other 
side,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  She  is  evidently  a  sort  of  tramp,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  but  tramps  never  come  here  ;  we  are 
all  too  poor  and  honest." 

"  I  know,"  said  Robert  ;  "  she  must  have 
heard  of  the  camp  ;  they  are  rich  there.  She 
no  doubt  wanted  to  go  there  to  beg.  That  is 
why  she  would  cross  the  bridge." 

"  No  doubt,"  said  the  doctor,  and  he  went 
out  of  the  door  with  the  Captain  ;  Robert  fol- 
lowed them.  "  There  is  nothing  to  do  for  her, 
but  I  will  leave  an  opiate  in  case  she  begins  to 
suffer  overmuch.  She  will  last  only  a  few  hours  ; 
not  past  six  o'clock,  probably.  Her  back  is  brok- 
en. She  must  have  struck  a  big  boulder  as  she 
went  under.  Her  legs  are  dead  already,  quite 
paralyzed.  Let  her  lie  where  she  is,  as  she  is — to 
torture  her  by  moving  her  would  be  cruel.  I'll 
drive  round  by  the  poorhouse,  and  speak  to  the 
poormaster  to  come  round  here  this  evening 


184  The  Captains  Bargain. 

for  the  body."  Then  the  doctor  mounted  his 
vehicle,  which  was  a  "  buckboard  "  on  a  pair  of 
stout,  low  wheels,  and  rode  off. 

The  woman  lay  as  if  insensible.  The  Captain, 
still  tossing  in  his  mind  these  questions  :  "  Had 
he  helped  on  a  death  so  opportune  for  him?" 
"  Was  wishing  her  dead,  a  method  of  killing 
her  ?  "  sat  looking  on  for  an  hour.  Then  he  could 
stand  it  no  longer.  "  I  promised,"  he  said,  "  to 
get  out  boards  for  the  young  gentleman  for  a  new 
shanty.  I  must  go  to  work.  You  watch  her, 
Robert.  Don't  be  frightened  if  she  talks  queer 
to  you,  and  says  odd  things.  It  will  be  raving, 
you  know.  She  may  mix  you  up  with  others. 
Don't  heed  her  talk." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Robert.  But  when  his 
father  was  gone  he  watched  the  dying  woman 
with  a  growing  trouble.  What  a  mystery  wa«> 
here  !  Now  she  was  part  and  parcel  of  this 
world — soon  she  would  be  away  from  this  world 
— but  where  ?  How,  and  how  far  was  she  to 
go?  How  would  that  other  life  move  on? 
What  kind  of  a  life  would  it  be  ?  He  lifted 
his  head.  The  woman  was  looking  at  him. 
"Where  is  my  dress?"  she  said  ;  "what  am  I 
here  for  ?  I  cannot  feel  my  feet.  I  cannot 
move  my  legs.  I  want  to  get  up.  I  have  a 
long  way  to  go  to-night.    You  are  coming  with 


A  Long  Journey,  185 

me.  You  need  not  take  any  of  your  things, 
but  go  get  on  your  best  clothes,  and  come  away 
qjickly." 

"  You  fell  into  the  creek  from  the  bridge," 
said  Robert,  "and  father  and  I  took  you  out  ; 
and  we  took  off  your  dress  and  shoes.  You 
hurt  yourself — that  is  why  you  do  not  feel  your 
legs." 

"  Are  the  dress  and  shoes  dry  ?  Bring  them, 
and  come,  we  will  go  off  together.  Rub  my 
feet,  will  you,  boy  ?  " 

Robert  rubbed.  She  could  not  feel  his  touch. 
"  Harder  !  Are  you  rubbing  ?  Pinch  them  ! 
Stick  a  pin  in  them  !  I  cannot  feel  you  touch 
me  at  all. " 

Robert  bent  over  her,  great  compassion  in 
his  big,  brown  eyes. 

"  You  are  going  on  a  long  journey  to-night," 
he  said,  "  and  no  one  can  go  with  you ;  you  must 
go  alone." 

"  I  won't  go  alone  ;  I  mean  to  take  you,"  said 
the  woman. 

"  You  cannot  take  me  or  any  one.  Your 
journey  will  be  far  outside  of  this  world,  into 
the  world  to  come.  You  are  going  to  die.  You 
are  hurt,  and  in  a  few  hours  you  will  be  dead. 
Your  feet  and  legs  are  dead  already.  You  are 
going  out  of  this  world  to  stand  before  God." 


i86  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  I  don't  know — anything  about  God,"  said 
tiie  woman. 

"  But  you  must  meet  Him  to-night.  And  He 
will  ask  you  what  you  did  in  this  world  ;  and  if 
you  have  done  evil,  He  will  be  angry  with  you, 
unless  you  have  repented.  Now  is  your  time 
to  repent  and  say  you  are  sorry,  and  ask  God  to 
have  mercy  on  you.  There  is  no  minister  here 
to  talk  to  you.  The  schoolmaster  is  away. 
There  is  no  one  to  pray  for  you  ;  but  if  you  have 
done  evil,  say  you  are  sorry,  for  you  are  going 
to  die." 

"  You  seem  a  kind  boy,"  said  the  woman. 
"  And  you  pulled  me  out  of  the  water,  did 
you?" 

"  Yes ;  never  mind  that ;  think, — are  you 
ready  to  die  ?  " 

"  I  wish — you'd  tell  the  man  to  come  here, — • 
I  want  to  say  a  word  to  him,"  said  the  woman. 

Robert  went  up  into  the  mill. 

"  She  wants  to  see  you." 

"What  has  she  been  saying  to  you?"  de- 
manded the  Captain. 

"  Nothing.  I  told  her  she  was  going  to  die, 
and  she  wants  you." 

"Robert!"  cried  the  Captain,  eagerly,  "go 
stand  on  the  middle  of  the  bridge  until  I  call 
you!" 


A  Long  yourney.  187 

Having  thus  provided  for  getting  Robert  out 
of  earsliot,  Captain  Allen  went  to  confess  his 
penitent. 

Robert  stood  a  long  while  on  the  bridge, 
waiting  like  the  "  boy  on  the  burning  deck." 
In  truth,  Captain  Allen  only  remembered  to 
call  him,  when  the  woman  seemed  to  be  in 
great  agony  and  he  did  not  know  what  to  do 
for  her. 

Robert  thought  of  the  opiate,  and,  as  the  doc- 
tor had  said  it  was  the  only  thing  to  give  her, 
he  administered  it  freely,  and  repeated  the  dose. 
The  woman  sank  into  unconsciousness.  Rob- 
ert saw  that  Captain  Allen  was  very  pale ;  his 
eyes  were  sunken  ;  beads  of  sweat  stood  on  his 
brow.  He  sat  by  the  table,  laid  his  arms  upon 
it,  and  his  head  on  his  arms.  The  heavy  breath- 
ing of  the  woman  sounded  through  the  room. 
After  a  time  there  was  a  rattling  sound. 

"She  is  dying  !"  said  the  Captain.  "  I  wish 
she  had  never  come  here  !  " 

He  rose  and  put  his  arm  about  Robert. 

"  She  is  dead." 

He  led  the  boy  out  of  doors.  At  that  minute 
a  wagon  drove  up  with  the  poormaster  and  the 
doctor  in  it,  and  a  pine  coffin  with  a  long,  coarse, 
white  shroud.  They  went  in  and  wrapped  the 
stranger's  body  in  this  garment. 


1 88  The  Captains  Bargain. 

So  it  happened  that  Eliza  and  her  four  chil- 
dren coming  home  from  their  pleasuring  saw 
several  men  carrying  a  heavy  coffin  out  of  their 
kitchen.  All  this  tragedy  of  death  had  happened 
while  they  were  having  a  picnic  on  a  summer's 
day. 

But  from  the  hour  the  tramp-woman  crossed 
the  threshold  of  his  mill,  Captain  Allen  was  a 
changed  man.  He  no  longer  had  a  jolly  laugh 
and  a  genial  word  for  every  one.  His  appetite 
failed  ;  his  sleep  was  broken  ;  his  face  was  full  of 
gloom  ;  his  words  were  tart.  He  no  longer  de- 
ferred to  the  opinions  of  the  woman-with-a-head- 
on-her-shoulders,  but  contradicted  and  dissented 
from  her  regularly,  as  if  he  felt  that  between  her 
views  and  his  there  must  be  some  great  differ- 
ence.    At  night  his  dreams  were  frightful. 

"  You  are  going  to  be  sick,  'Zekiel,"  said  'Liza, 
"and  I  do  wish  you'd  take  some  medicine. 
That  tramp-woman  dying  here  has  over-set  you 
completely.  Robert  did  not  take  it  as  hard  as 
you  do.  You  always  were  a  man  of  great  feel- 
ings, 'Zekiel." 

"  Robert  is  only  a  boy.  Boys  don't  realize 
things,  'Liza." 

"  Well,  you  need  to  do  something  for  yourself 
or  you'll  be  down  sick.  You  mutter  and  toss 
all  night.      Last   night  you   dreamed  you  had 


A  Long  yourney.  189 

killed  that  woman.  The  other  night  you 
dreamed  that  you  had  put  Robert  down  a 
well ;  and  not  long  ago  you  dreamed  you  had 
buried  him  alive.  I  told  Jerry  yesterday  we'd 
have  trouble  yet  with  you  if  you  did  not  take 
heed." 

"  I  wish,  'Liza  Allen,  you'd  not  talk  about  me 
to  any  one." 

"  I'll  talk  about  you  to  the  doctor  if  you  don't 
get  better  right  soon,  'Zekiel,"  said  the  resolute 
Eliza. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


VI    ET    ARM  IS. 


"  What  is  wrong  with  you,  father  ? "  said 
Pink,  following  her  father  into  the  mill  one 
day,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Nothing  !  Why  do  you  think  anything  is 
wrong  ?"  he  cried. 

"  You  are  so  different,  father.  You  are  tart 
to  mother  ;  you  boxed  the  twins*  ears  ;  you 
scolded  Bop  for  making  a  noise  ;  you  find  fault 
with  me  ;  you  speak  cross  to  Robert  and  Jerry. 
We  never  knew  you  to  do  so  before.  Father, 
is  the  mortgage  foreclosed,  and  you  do  not  like 
to  tell  us  ?  Or  is  there  some  other  debt  ?  Must 
we  leave  the  mill  ?  Do  tell  me,  father.  You 
are  so  changed,  and  we  are  all  so  unhappy. 
Until  now,  though  we  are  poor,  we  have  been 
very  happy."     Tears  were  in  Pink's  eyes. 

"  There   is   nothing   wrong.      Don't    bother 

me,"  said  the  Captain,  stubbornly.     But  Pink's 

words  pursued  him.     He  could  not  work.     In 

the  mill  Jerry  and  Robert  seemed  to  regard 
(190) 


Vi  et  Armis.  191 

him  anxiously.  He  went  into  the  garden.  He 
saw  Mr.  Murray  coming  down  the  road  and 
dismounting  at  the  mill.  He  noticed  how  pale 
and  sad  Mr.  Murray  looked.  He  was  more 
bent  than  ever  ;  he  seemed  haggard  and  feeble. 

"  I  came  to  say  good-bye,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 
"  I  am  sick.  I  am  going  away.  I  shall  go  to 
Europe  or  to  the  East.  Very  likely  I  shall  lay 
my  bones  there.  What  is  the  use  of  living, 
alone  as  I  am  ?  Ah,  Allen,  if  you  had  only 
been  willing  to  give  me  the  boy,  and  with  him 
a  joy  and  interest  in  life,  it  might  have  saved 
me  !  But  I  cannot  find  my  own  boy,  and  this 
one  is  the  only  other  boy  I  ever  cared  for." 

He  passed  into  the  kitchen.  Allen  followed 
him.  He  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  very  glad 
that  the  Superintendent  was  going  away.  Mr. 
Murray  spoke  to  the  rest  of  the  family.  Then 
laid  his  arm  on  Robert's  shoulder  and  looked 
earnestly  at  him.  "  I  should  have  a  son  like 
you,  Robert  !  Then  I  might  be  content,  and 
live  to  do  some  good.  Well,  good-bye  ;  I  leave 
to-morrow." 

He  shook  hands  all  around.  Captain  Allen 
was  so  gruff,  he  was  not  even  civil.  Mr.  Mur- 
ray went  out  of  the  house.  Then  Captain  Allen, 
as  reluctant,  but  forced  to  the  act,  followed  him 
to  the  door,  and  called  out  :  "  Mr.  Murray — 


192  The  Captains  Bargain. 

won't  you — don't  you  want    to   stop    to    sup- 

"  Thank  you,  Captain.     No." 

The  Captain  came  in  growling.  "  Some  folks 
won't  take  a  chance  when  it's  offered  'em.  They 
won't  give  other  folks  a  chance.  He  needn't 
say  I  didn't  stop  him." 

The  family  sat  down  to  supper.  "  I  think 
poor  Mr.  Murray  won't  live  long  ;  my  heart 
ached  for  him,"  said  Eliza. 

"  I  can't  bear  to  see  him  so  unhappy,"  sighed 
Pink,  "I  like  him  so  much.  I  can  see  his  eyes  now." 

Robert  looked  at  his  plate  in  silence.  He 
could  not  eat. 

"  Boy,  eat  your  supper  !"  cried  the  Captain, 
loudly. 

"  I'm  not  hungry,  father.  Seeing  poor  Mr. 
Murray  has  taken  away  my  appetite,"  said  Rob- 
bert,  gently. 

"  Eat  your  supper,  and  don't  be  a  fool !  "  cried 
the  Captain. 

The  family  held  their  breaths  in  astonishment. 

Captain  Allen  pushed  away  his  plate,  and 
tramped  out  of  the  kitchen.  He  went  to  that 
rubbish  place  under  the  mill.  Long  ago  in  that 
damp,  dark  corner  he  had  fought  a  moral  battle, 
and  won  a  victory.  Once  more  the  Captain 
was  in  sore  conflict 


Vi  et  Armzs.  193 

Jacob  wrestled  all  night  at  Jabbok.  The  eartl 
is  full  of  the  scenes  of  unchronicled  spiritua' 
struggles  and  conquests.  The  Captain  remainei 
under  the  mill  until  nearly  midnight.  When  he; 
came  in,  Eliza  alone  was  sitting  up  for  him.  She 
looked  keenly  at  him. 

"  'Zekiel,  where  have  you  been  so  long  ? " 

"  Under  the  mill." 

"  'Zekiel,  I  don't  know  what  has  got  hold  of 
you." 

"  I'm  afraid  the  devil  has,"  said  'Zekiel,  so- 
berly. 

"  'Zekiel  Allen  !  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it 
if  any  one  had  told  me  !" 

"  Neither  would  I,  a  year  ago,"  said  the  Cap- 
tain. 

Again  he  tossed  restlessly,  all  night.  There 
are  in  earthly  wars,  victories  that  are  so  nearly 
defeats,  that  the  conquerors  are  kept  waking 
and  watching  on  the  hardly-won  field,  uncertain 
whether  morning  may  not  find  the  foe  in  pos- 
session. It  is  sometimes  so  in  spiritual  warfare, 
we  tremble  lest  we  may  not  find  ourselves  hold- 
ing a  hardly  secured  vantage. 

The  Captain  sat  down  to  his  breakfast,  but 
did  not  eat.  He  hastily  drank  two  cups  of 
hot  coffee,  then  surprised  his  household  by 
snatching  his  hat  and  rushing  away  from  the 


194  "^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

house.  At  this  Eliza  burst  into  tears,  and 
wrung  her  hands.  "I  do  not  know  what  is 
coming  over  your  poor  father  !  He  used  to  be 
as  cheerful,  hearty,  and  good-tempered  as  the  day 
was  long.  Now  he  is  as  cross  as  two  sticks.  I 
know  he  is  losing  his  mind.  His  worries  have 
softened  his  brain.  Oh,  children,  whatever  shall 
we  do  if  he  goes  crazy  ! " 

The  children  had  no  plan  of  action  to  pro- 
pose for  so  dire  a  contingency.  Pink  and  the 
twin  girl  wept  with  Eliza.  Bop's  sturdy  little 
fists  were  clenched  in  a  fierce  effort  to  play  the 
man,  tearless.  Robert  put  his  arms  about  his 
mother,  and  Jerry,  clearing  his  throat  vigorously, 
looked  out  of  the  open  door.  Meanwhile  the 
Captain  sped,  as  one  pursued  by  the  Avenger 
of  Blood,  up  the  steep  path  to  Deacon  Britt's. 
There  he  found  the  schoolmaster  on  the  porch, 
having  just  finished  his  breakfast.  The  Captain 
called  to  him,  breathless  : 

"  Schoolmaster,  I  want  you  to  come  where 
no  one  will  hear  us  talking.  I  have  things  to 
say  to  you." 

The  master  led  the  way  to  the  orchard,  where 
the  fruit  was  ripening  red  and  golden  in  the 
autumn  sun,  and  the  dew  lay  yet  along  the 
grass.  No  one  could  come  within  earshot 
without  being  seen. 


Vi  et  Armis.  195 

"  Schoolmaster,  have  you  seen  Mr.  Murray 
lately  ?  " 

"  Yes.  He  looks  very  poorly;  he  is  leaving 
to-day,  on  the  train  at  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Did  he  ever  tell  you  his  story,  school- 
master ? " 

•'  No.  He  once  had  a  wife  and  child.  They 
are  dead.  I  know  nothing  more.  He  never 
speaks  of  himself." 

"  He  spoke  to  me,"  said  the  Captain ;  "  he 
told  me," — and  he  rushed  into  the  Superintend- 
ent's sad  story. 

"  Stop,  stop  ! "  said  the  schoolmaster,  after  a 
moment.  "These  are  very  private  affairs, — • 
meant  only  for  you,  as  he  confided  them  to 
you.  You  should  not  tell  them  to  me.  Captain. 
It  is  a  breach  of  faith." 

"I  must  tell  you,"  said  Captain  Allen,  "and 
you  must  hear  me.  Listen,  I  tell  you  " — and 
he  went  on  with  the  Superintendent's  story. 
"  Do  you  not  think,  schoolmaster,  that  a  man 
who  lost  his  child  in  such  a  way,  has  no  further 
right  to  him  ?  What  business  had  he  to  take 
the  child  out  against  its  mother's  wishes — to 
drink  with  his  baby  in  his  arms  ?  He  lost  him 
by  his  own  fault.     He  deserves  to  be  lonely." 

"Allen,  Allen,  that  is  not  the  voice  of  Chris- 
tian pity.    Where  should  we  all  be,  if  with  God 


196  The  Captains  Bargain. 

there  was  no  forgiveness  of  sins  ?  I  know  your 
heart  aches  for  that  poor  father  who  for  all 
these  years  has  vainly  looked  for  his  child. 
But  unhappily  your  pity  and  mine  cannot  re- 
store his  son." 

The  Captain  looked  moodily  on  the  ground. 
*•  If  he  is  sick  and  going  to  die,  it  would  do  his 
son  no  good  to  be  found  by  him ;  he  would  be 
with  him  just  long  enough  to  be  spoiled — and 
then  left  an  orphan.  The  Superintendent  will 
not  suffer  much  longer." 

"  I  think  grief  is  killing  him,  and  joy  would 
cure  him." 

"  He's  had  his  chance,  and  thrown  it  away," 
said  Allen. 

"  Allen,  he  has  greatly  wished  for  Robert. 
Is  it  this  that  is  on  your  mind  ?  Are  you  feel- 
ing that  you  ought  to  give  up  your  boy  to 
him?" 

"  Schoolmaster  !"  cried  the  Captain,  with  vio- 
lence, "  Robert  is  his  son.  Robert  is  the  boy 
he  lost ! " 

"Allen,  what  are  you  telling  me?  How  do 
you  know  it  ?  " 

"  You  know  the  tramp-woman  that  died  at 
my  house  ?  She  had  come  for  Robert.  She  left 
him  at  the  village.  She  came  to  claim  him, 
she  said  he  was  her  son.    I  wouldn't  have  given 


Vi  et  Armis.  197 

him  to  her ;  but  you  know  as  she  tried  to  cross 
the  creek  to  speak  to  him,  she  fell,  and  that  was 
her  death.  When  she  found — the  boy  was  the 
one  who  told  her,  and  he  did  not  guess  she  had 
ever  had  to  do  with  him — when  she  found  she 
was  going  to  die,  she  called  for  me  and  told  me 
the  truth.  She  said  she  saw  the  child  in  his 
father's  arms  sitting  on  a  bench  in  Central 
Park.  The  child  cried,  and  the  father  gave 
him  his  watch  and  his  pocket-book  to  play  with. 
The  woman  saw  that  the  father  was  intoxicated 
and  did  not  know  what  he  was  doing.  Pres- 
ently he  put  the  child  down  on  the  bench,  and 
said  he  would  go  and  get  him  some  candy.  No 
one  was  near  and  this  woman  thought  she  would 
take  the  pocket-book  and  the  w^atch  from  the 
child.  But  when  she  went  near  to  it  the  child 
held  fast  to  the  things, — Robert  always  was  a 
plucky  one  ! — and  she  saw  he  had  a  ring  on  his 
finger,  a  gold  chain  on  his  neck,  and  a  rich 
dress.  Schoolmaster,  I  think  children  are  pret- 
ty enough  as  they  stand,  without  fixing  them 
up  like  popinjays.  Well,  she  was  greedy,  and 
thought  she  would  take  the  child  off  so  she 
could  strip  him,  and  then  she  would  leave  him 
somewheres,  and  r.he  wrapped  him  up  in  her  old 
shawl,  head  and  ears,  and  off  she  went  to  a 
slum   where   she   lived.      But   she   found   the 


198  The  Captains  Bargain. 

pocket-book  had  a  hundred  dollars  in  it,  and 
her  husband  told  her  she  would  get  ten  years 
for  stealing  the  child,  and  she  had  better  get 
away  with  it.  They  thought  if  a  reward  was 
offered,  if  they  had  time  they  could  fix  up  a 
story  and  be  safe  for  the  reward.  So  the  woman 
took  the  midnight  train  for  Philadelphia.  Her 
husband,  and  a  couple  of  boys  they  had,  went 
there  to  her  after  a  little,  but  there  was  such  a 
hue  and  cry  raised  about  the  child  they  dared 
not  say  anything.  They  got  rid  of  the  money 
drinking,  and  sold  all  the  things  but  a  little 
shirt  with  the  child's  name  on  it,  which  the 
woman  kept,  hoping  that  some  day  she  might 
hear  of  a  reward  for  finding  the  child,  and  man- 
age to  obtain  it.  And  she  kept  the  inside  case 
of  the  watch  ;  she  had  to  break  it  out  before  she 
sold  the  watch,  for  on  the  case  is  Mr.  Murray's 
full  name,  and  '  from  his  wife.'  She  kept  those 
two  things.  Well,  when  they  had  a  drunken 
fight  the  man,  and  his  two  sons,  her  step-sons, 
u-;ed  to  threaten  to  tell  about  her  stealing  the 
cliild.  It  scared  her  so  that  after  about  four 
years,  she  took  occasion  of  her  husband's  being 
i  1  jail,  to  go  off  and  lose  the  child.  She  took 
him  up  here  to  Lacy,  on  a  night  train,  left  him 
on  the  road-side,  and  went  off  to  Harrisburg 
and  stayed  six  months.     But  this  summer  she 


Vt  et  Armis.  199 

was  in  New  York,  and  coming  upon  an  old 
paper  she  found  that  '  five  thousand  dollars  and 
no  questions  asked '  was  offered  for  the  child. 
She  made  up  her  mind  to  come  after  him,  and 
to  say  that  he  was  her  own.  She  thought  she 
would  find  him  in  the  poorhouse.  She  did  not 
know  Mr.  Murray  was  up  here  ;  the  child  was 
to  be  taken  to  a  lawyer  in  New  York.  She  had 
fixed  up  a  story  about  her  sister  having  stolen 
him,  and  told  her  when  she  was  dying,  and  given 
her  the  watch-case  and  shirt.  But  you  see, 
schoolmaster,  all  her  plans  went  wrong.  When 
she  found  she  had  to  die,  she  told  me  the  truth, 
and — when  I  saw  the  watch-case  I  found  on  it 
the  Superintendent's  full  name,  and  the  whole 
story  jibed  with  what  he  had  told  me.  So,  there 
it  was.    Robert  is  Murray's  son," 

"  And  you  have  not  restored  the  child  to  the 
father?" 

"  He  is  my  child,"  cried  Captain  Allen  pas- 
sionately. "  I  love  him  as  well,  perhaps  better, 
than  my  own.  There  never  was  such  another 
boy  as  Robert.  He  is  our  best  comfort.  It 
would  kill  'Liza  to  lose  him.  Pink  and  Bop 
and  the  rest  would  break  their  hearts.  We  have 
worked  for  him  ;  we  have  reared  him  ;  we  have 
loved  him.  What  right  has  Murray  to  him,  I 
say?" 


200  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

"  And  you  did  not  tell  Eliza  ?  " 

The  Captain  hung  his  head. 

"  Because  you  knew  that  Eliza's  voice  would 
speak  with  your  conscience,  '  Give  back  thtj 
child  ! '  The  Scripture  provides  for  the  return 
of  the  strayed  ox,  or  ass,  or  sheep, — how  much 
more  for  the  lost  child  ?  If  we  may  not  rob  our 
neighbor  of  his  gold  or  his  garb,  how  much  less 
of  his  own  flesh  and  blood  ?  If  we  are  forbid- 
den to  covet  all  else  that  he  has,  are  we  not  es- 
pecially to  refrain  from  coveting  his  child  ? 
Allen,  your  course  toward  Robert  was  noblest 
charity,  until  it  became  foulest  sin  !" 

"  Must  I  give  him  up  ?"  cried  Allen  in  a  voice 
of  agony. 

It  was  like  the  echo  of  the  old  cry:  "  How 
rhall  I  give  thee  up,  Ephraim  ?  how  shall  I  de- 
liver thee,  Israel?  how  shall  I  make  thee  as 
.Vdmah  ?  how  shall  I  set  thee  as  Zeboim  ? " 

"  It  is  hard,  but  you  must  do  it,  Allen.  Have 
you  been  happy  and  contented  keeping  this  to 
yourself  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  have  been  a  curse  to  myself  and  my 
fAmily." 

"  Come,  Allen ;  there  is  no  time  to  lose. 
Murray  will  be  leaving  soon.  We  must  get  up 
the  Mountain  to  his  home.  Come,  man,  let  us 
run  for  it.     The  sooner  done,  the  better." 


Vi  et  Armis.  201 

Through  the  orchard  they  turned  straight  up 
the  steep  side  of  Lai's  Mountain  ;  struck  from 
the  foot-path  to  the  bridle-path, — up,  on  toward 
Mr.  Murray's  little  lonely  dwelling.  Doors  and 
windows  were  open.  Boxes  and  bags  and 
trunks  'Were  standing  ready  to  be  carried  to 
the  station.  Mr.  Murray  was  alone  in  his  sit- 
ting-room, his  face  resting  wearily  in  his  hands. 
He  hardly  spoke  as  his  guests  came  in  warm  and 
panting. 

"Mr.  Murray,"  broke  out  the  schoolmaster, 
"you  have  often  asked  Allen  here  to  give  you 
Robert,  and " 

Mr.  Murray  sprang  up. 

"  Allen,  have  you  had  pity  on  me  ?  have  you 
changed  your  mind  ?  have  you  come  to  give  me 
that  boy  that  I  love  like  my  own  ?  " 

"No,  I  haven't!"  shouted  Allen.  "I  don't 
give  him,  but  you  will  take  him.  Every  man 
takes  his  own  where  he  finds  it.  Take  your  son 
if  you  must.  He  is  yours, — the  boy  you  lost, 
and  there's  the  shirt  he  had  on  his  little  back, 
and  there's  the  case  of  the  watch  you  gave  him 
to  play  with,  and  if  you  want  another  token,  he 
had  three  vaccination  -  marks  set  in  a  straight 
line  on  his  arm,  and  'Liza  says  it  is  a  born  shame 
to  spoil  a  child's  arm  like  that." 

Murray  gazed   stupefied  at   the  watch-case, 


202  The  Captains  Bargain. 

and  the  bit  of  linen,  sewn  long  before  by  his 
wife's  fingers.  Then  as  some  prostrate  serpent 
gathers  itself  together,  erects  itself,  flashes  fury, 
quivers,  expands,  makes  ready  for  a  spring,  the 
Superintendent's  form  uplifted  and  expanded, 
his  eyes  blazed,  ruddy  anger  mounted  over  his 
face,  his  despondent  voice  rose  to  loud  wrath, 
and  he  turned  upon  Allen. 

"  My  boy !  you  had  my  boy  and  kept  him 
from  me !  you  refused  to  give  me  my  son  !  you 
heard  the  story  of  my  loss  and  misery  !  you  with 
your  home  full  of  children,  robbed  me  of  my 
only  one ! " 

"  Mr.  Murray,  Mr.  Murray !  he  did  not  know," 
interposed  the  schoolmaster. 

"  And  when  did  he  know  ?  When  did  he  come 
by  these  tokens  ?  When  did  he  find  out  that  the 
boy  was  mine  ?  " 

"  When  the  tramp-woman  died  at  the  mill," 
said  the  Captain,  like  a  culprit  at  the  bar,  "  then 
I  knew, — she  told  me.  She  had  come  for  the 
boy  to  give  him  up  to  you  or  your  lawyer  in 
New  York.  She  told  me,  and  she  gave  me 
the  things." 

"  That  tramp-woman  !  A  month,  a  whole 
month  ago  !  a  month  that  I  have  been  dying 
by  inches,  a  month  that  I  have  been  eating  my 
heart  out !    I  was  at  your  house  even  last  night, 


Vt  et  Armis.  203 

and  you  were  dumb.  I  should  have  known  the 
boy  by  his  mother's  eyes — by  his  mother's  heart 
in  him !  You  have  never  told  me  the  truth 
about  finding  him,  or  I  might  have  suspected. 
A  month — a  whole  month  I  have  been  robbed 
of  my  child.  You  scoundrel !  you  villain  !  you 
kidnapper !  you  thief  ! " 

After  this  outburst  of  gratitude,  Mr.  Murray 
dashed  out  of  the  room,  flung  himself  on  the 
roan  that  stood  saddled  ready  to  take  him  to  the 
station,  and  down  the  steep  path  he  went  at 
breakneck  speed. 

Captain  Allen  and  the  schoolmaster  were  left 
alone. 

"He  has  gone  to  carry  off  Robert,"  gasped 
the  Captain  ;  "  I  shall  never  see  my  boy  again. 
Perhaps  I  deserve  it.  He  called  me  scoundrel, 
villain,  thief !  I  have  felt  all  that  this  last  month, 
schoolmaster.  But  how  I  have  loved  that  boy, 
and  I  have  lost  him  !" 

"  Come,  Allen,  let  us  hurry  down  to  your 
house,"  said  the  master  ;  "  we  may  get  there  be- 
fore he  takes  Robert  off.  We  must  try  and 
comfort  Eliza  and  the  children.  Bear  up.  You 
have  done  well.  You  have  been  a  father  to  the 
bo)^  You  yielded  for  a  time  to  temptation, 
but  you  have  conquered  it.     Come." 

They  plunged  into  the  grass-grown  path  to- 


204  The  Captaifis  Bargain. 

ward  the  mill.  It  is  on  record  that  the  school- 
master made  only  two  remarks  on  the  way  down. 

First : 

"The  trailing  arbutus  is  a  most  beautiful 
•'lower,  but  it  is  not  half  so  beautiful  as  that 
■lower  of  the  soul — human  gratitude." 

Second : 

"The  Lobelia-fulgens  is  a  very  rare  plant, 
but  it  is  not  half  so  rare  as  that  plant  of  the 
soul — human  gratitude." 

While  the  schoolmaster  announced  these  two 
particulars,  Captain  Allen  said  not  a  word.  The 
two  men  strode  along  toward  the  mill,  and,  for 
t!ie  only  time  in  his  experience,  the  schoolmas- 
ter was  missing  at  morning  school,  and  the 
urchins  assembled  devoted  the  hours  to  "tag" 
and  "leap-frog,"  instead  of  to  multiplication- 
tables  and  spelling. 

Meantime,  Mr.  Murray,  filled  with  fierce 
emotions, — exultant  joy  at  finding  the  long-lost 
son ;  triumph  in  finding  him  such  an  one  as  all 
could  admire  ;  wrath  against  poor  Ezekiel  Allen, 
who  had  for  a  month  defrauded  him  of  his  pa- 
ternal rights, — went  wildly  toward  the  mill  to 
claim  his  own.  Hope  took  possession  of  him  ; 
joy  filled  him  ;  courage  rose  ;  life  seemed  to 
beat  in  his  pulses  with  returning  force. 

He  burst  in  upon  the  little  family  left  lament- 


Vi  et  Armis.  205 

ing  by  the  Captain's  hasty  departure.  Mrs. 
'Liza,  thoroughly  miserable,  had  retired  be- 
hind the  stove  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes. 
Pink,  whose  little  fingers  were  never  idle,  was 
monotonously  knitting  a  stocking — now  and 
then  polishing  away  a  tear  with  the  blue  wool- 
en leg  that  depended  from  her  needles.  Rob- 
ert stood  by  her  chair,  his  face  clouded  and  anx- 
ious. The  twins  felt  in  duty  bound  to  be  miser- 
able, but  they  had  seized  the  occasion  of  their 
mother's  self-absorption  to  take  a  holiday,  and 
had  got  into  a  corner  to  play  "  mumbledy-peg." 

Jerr  /  felt  it  indecorous  to  work  while  family 
misfortanes  brought  a  sort  of  Sabbath  of  sorrow 
into  the  week.  He  leaned  against  the  door- 
frame, and  eyed  his  wooden  leg  malevolently. 
Bop  had  made  an  effort  to  bring  order  out  of 
confusion  by  piling  up  the  breakfast  dishes,  of 
which  his  mother  was  for  once  oblivious,  but 
his  efforts  ended  in  sitting  in  his  father's  chair 
and  leaning  his  round,  red  head  upon  the  table. 
Bop's  world  seemed  to  have  come  to  a  sudden 
end.  Into  this  silence  and  misery  burst  Mr. 
Murray,  all  excitement. 

"  My  son  !  Where  is  my  son  ?  Robert,  come 
to  your  father  !  " 

He  seized  Robert  and  hugged  him  to  his  heart 
in  a  passion  of  love  and  joy. 


2o6  The  Captains  Bargain, 

"  My  son  !  my  own  son  !  my  lost  boy  !  Oh, 
why  is  not  your  mother  here  to  have  back  her 
child  !     My  boy  !  my  boy  ! " 

Eliza  sprang  up. 

"Mr.  Murray,  what  do  you  mean?  Surely, 
"  Zekiel  Allen  has  not  given  him  to  you  ? " 

"  Given  him  to  me  ?  No,  indeed,  Mrs.  Allen  ; 
I  take  what  is  my  own.  I  take  the  boy  that  you 
have  cruelly  and  wickedly  kept  from  me.  What 
right  had  you  to  keep  him,  when  I  was  pining 
and  perishing  in  my  sorrow  ?  It  was  wickedly 
done.  I  should  have  thought  a  woman  and  a 
mother  would  have  had  more  heart.  Robert, 
my  son,  leave  these  people  who  have  been  de- 
frauding us  both  of  our  just  rights.  Come, 
now,  with  your  father,  who  will  give  you  all 
the  best  that  is  in  the  world.  Let  us  be  off  at 
once." 

Poor  Mrs.  'Liza,  who  had  never  heard  a  word 
of  Mr.  Murray's  story,  or  of  his  lost  child, — who 
had  had  no  hint  about  the  confession  of  the 
tramp-woman, — heard  in  amazement. 

"  Robert,"  she  cried,  "  what  does  he  mean  ? 
Has  all  the  world  gone  mad  at  once  ?" 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

MR.    MURRAY    BUILDS    CARD-HOUSES. 

**  Don't  wait  for  any  of  your  things,  Robert," 
cried  Mr.  Murray.  "  You  want  none  of  them. 
I  will  give  you  all  the  things  you  want.  The 
train  leaves  at  eleven,  it  is  now  just  on  ten,  we 
must  be  off.  This  is  no  place  for  you,  my  son  ; 
you  are  rich,  you  are  a  gentleman  born  ;  come 
away  with  me  to  your  rights." 

In  fact,  Mr.  Murray  was  beside  himself. 

"  Here's  the  Cap'n  running  down  the  hill ! " 
cried  Jerry. 

"  The  schoolmaster's  with  him  ! "  cried  the 
twins  ;  and  conscious  of  truancy,  slid  under  the 
big  lounge. 

"  Oh,  the  schoolmaster  will  help  us  ! "  ex- 
claimed Eliza  ;  "  he  will  not  be  crazy,  like  the 
rest  of  the  world." 

"  My  dear  boy,  why  are  you  not  coming?" 
said  Mr.  Murray  to  the  astonished  Robert. 

The  Captain,  red,  breathless,  was  in  the  kitchen. 

"  Father,  what   does   it   mean  ! "   exclaimed 

Robert. 

(207) 


2o8  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  I  am  your  father.  Dont  call  him  father  !" 
shouted  Mr.  Murray,  unreasonable  in  his  excite- 
ment, and  resenting  the  habit  of  years. 

"  Father,  tell  me — am  I  his  son  ?  " 

"  'Zekiel,  'Zekiel,  if  you  are  not  out  of  your 
mind,  let  us  know  what  it  all  means.  Is  Rob- 
ert to  go  away  ?  " 

"  You  are  his  son,"  said  the  Captain,  hoarse 
and  red-eyed,  and  looking  at  Robert,  his  lips 
trembling. 

"  'Zekiel,  have  you  given  our  Robert  away?" 

"  No,  'Liza — no,  my  poor  woman,  no  ;  but 
Robert  was  born  his  son,  and  his  father — means 
to  take  him." 

"  Certainly  I  do.  The  way  you  have  kept 
him  from  me  has  been  most  outrageous  !  Rob- 
ert, come  along  at  once." 

"  Consider,  Mr.  Murray,"  said  the  schoolmas- 
ter, "  that  until  now  these  good  people  have 
been  true,  kind  parents  to  your  child,  and  did 
not  know  of  your  claims — and  you  take  him 
from  them,  suddenly." 

"  They  knew  it  for  over  a  month — for  a 
month  they  have  robbed  me  most  shamefully." 

"  Sir — I  never  robbed  you,  and  never  knew 
of  any  claim  that  you  had,"  said  Eliza,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  And  only  for  a  month,"  cried  the  master, 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses.     209 

"  has  the  Captain  known.  He  has  not  told  his 
wife.  Mr.  Murray,  you  are  unreasonable  and 
unkind.  Mrs.  Allen,  the  truth  is  this  :  Mr. 
Murray  had  a  child  who,  when  only  a  year  old, 
was  stolen  from  him.  The  woman  who  stole 
the  child,  alarmed  at  her  deed,  deserted  him, 
four  years  later,  in  Lacy.  Your  good  husband 
rescued  him,  protected  him,  loved  him.  The 
woman  who  had  abandoned  him  came  here,  a 
month  ago,  to  get  him  to  restore  to  his  father. 
She  told  the  whole  story  to  the  Captain,  and 
since  then,  he  has  kept  it  to  himself,  because 
he  could  not  bear  to  part  with  Robert,  and 
knew  how  you  would  all  grieve  at  losing  him. 
To-day,  conscience  has  prevailed — and  he  has 
told  the  truth.  Robert  is  without  doubt  Mr. 
Murray's  lost  son,  and  the  father  has  the  first 
claim  upon  his  child.  He  must  go  with  his 
father." 

"  So  he  must.  I  have  lost  him,  and  you  have 
had  him  quite  long  enough.  It  is  time  the  ta- 
bles were  turned  ! "  cried  Mr.  Murray,  still 
wildly  nursing  his  grievances.  "  Robert,  are 
you  not  glad  to  find  the  most  indulgent,  affec- 
tionate father  in  the  world  ?  Do  you  not  love 
me,  my  son  ?  Surely  you  will  not  rob  me  of 
your  love.  Come,  let  me  get  you  away  from 
those  who  have  set  you  against  your  own  father. 


2IO  The   Captains  Bargain. 

Bid  these  people  good-bye,  and  come  with  me, 
my  son." 

For  answer,  Robert  sprang  into  the  arms  of 
Eliza,  hugged  her  with  all  his  might,  and  bend- 
ing his  handsome  head  upon  the  little  woman's 
shoulder,  cried  in  unison  with  her  crying.  Pink 
seized  Robert's  elbow  and  held  fast,  as  if  she 
defied  Mr.  Murray,  or  all  the  fathers  in  the 
world,  to  take  him  away.  The  twins,  crawling 
out  from  under  the  lounge,  burst  into  shrieks 
and  wails  at  seeing  their  mother  and  Robert 
weeping.  Bop  tried  to  be  a  man,  crowded  his 
fists  into  his  eyes,  and  got  behind  his  father ; 
the  Captain,  dropping  into  his  chair,  bent  for- 
ward and  hid  his  face  in  his  big,  rough  hands  ; 
Jerry,  seeing  the  misery  of  the  whole  family, 
heartily,  and  without  any  thought  of  selfishness, 
remarked  :  "  He  wished  he'd  have  been  the  one 
that  turned  out  to  belong  to  Mr.  Murray,  for  it 
broke  the  folks  all  up  to  lose  Robert."  In  fact, 
to  Jerry's  mind,  leaving  the  Aliens  and  the  mill, 
even  in  favor  of  a  rich  father,  seemed  unmiti- 
gated misery.  But  for  the  sake  of  his  benefac- 
tors he  would  have  been  willing  to  sacrifice  him- 
self. But  no  tragic  parent  was  waiting  for  the 
one-legged  and  one-eyed  orphan  of  twenty-five. 
Robert  was  the  "  Lost  One  Found,"  and  Rob- 
ert had  to  go.     Mr.  Murray  was  ready  to  tear 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses,     211 

him  from  Eliza's  arms.  The  schoolmaster  in- 
terfered. 

"  Robert,  you  must  go  with  your  father.  It 
should  be  your  happiness  to  comfort  him  after 
all  his  sorrows.  Mrs.  Allen,  let  the  boy  go.  Do 
not  feel  so  unhappy  ;  it  will  be  for  his  good 
— and — he  will  come  back  to  see  you." 

But  here  Mr.  Murray,  possessing  himself  of 
the  arm  of  Robert,  to  which  Pink  had  clung,  re- 
marked that,  "  They  had  had  enough  of  him. 
He  meant  to  keep  him  now  that  he  had  found  him. 
They  seemed  to  have  no  regard  for  his  rights." 

Eliza,  kissing  Robert,  whispered,  "  Go,  my 
boy.  You  must.  Be  a  good  son,  as  you  have 
been  to  us.  I  will  always  be  your  mother.  You 
will  never  forget  us," 

Robert  was  too  dazed  with  the  mutations  of 
his  state  to  resist  or  to  remonstrate.  He  kissed 
Pink  and  the  other  children,  shook  hands  with 
Jerry,  bent  his  face  to  Captain  Allen's  downcast 
face,  and  said  : 

"  Good-bye,  father,  good-bye.  You  have  been 
the  best  father  that  ever  was  to  me." 

Captain  Allen  only  groaned.  Mr.  Murray 
jealously  remonstrated. 

"  Don't  call  him  father.  I  am  your  father, 
and  I  shall  be  ten  times  better  to  you  than  ever 
he  has  been." 


212  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  No,  you  won't,"  said  Jerry,  angrily,  "  because 
you  can't.  'Tisn't  in  nater  to  be  a  better  father 
than  'Zekiel  Allen  makes." 

During  this  remark  Mr.  Murray  pulled  his 
new-found  son  from  the  house,  and  bidding  him 
mount  behind  him  on  the  docile  roan,  rode  ofif 
toward  the  station,  without  grace  of  a  good-bye 
or  a  word  of  thanks  to  the  protectors  of  his  son. 
Robert,  his  eyes  full  of  tears,  kept  his  head 
turned  toward  his  only  known  home,  until  a 
bend  of  the  road  hid  it  from  his  sight.  Mr. 
Murray  could  only  remember  the  Captain's  er- 
ror, in  hiding  for  a  month  the  truth  about  Rob- 
ert. He  recalled  the  times  he  had  asked  to 
have  the  child  given  to  him,  the  times  when 
Captain  Allen  had  tried  to  keep  the  boy  from 
attaching  himself  to  him,  and  he  reckoned  all 
these  times  as  within  the  period  of  the  Captain's 
knowledge  of  the  Superintendent's  paternal 
rights.  His  anger,  almost  foundationless  as  it 
was,  towered  up  and  hid  from  him  all  his  vast 
indebtedness  to  the  Captain  and  his  wife.  Mur- 
ray, yielding  to  a  vice,  had  lost  his  child,  and 
given  him  over  to  every  possible  misery.  Cap- 
tain Allen,  finding  the  child,  a  poor  pitiful  stray, 
had  fed,  clothed,  housed,  loved,  taught  him  ; 
had  given  him  name  and  family  and  friends; 
had  sacrificed  to  him  the  very  appetite  that  in 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses.    213 

his  father  had  been  his  destruction.  Out  of  their 
poverty  the  Aliens  had  maintained  this  lost 
child.  Once  Mr.  Murray  had  offered  a  large 
sum  if  the  child  should  only  be  given  to  him. 
He  did  not  think  of  that  offer  now ;  he  took 
Robert  as  his  right.  Mr.  Murray  had  also  of- 
fered live  thousand  dollars  to  any  one  who  would 
restore  his  boy.  Of  that  he  did  not  think  when 
he  carried  Robert  away  from  his  impoverished 
protectors.  Doubtless  it  was  because  in  the 
deep  heart-feelings  of  the  hour  it  was  impossible 
for  so  poor  a  thing  as  mere  money  to  enter. 
Even  later  it  did  not  enter  Mr.  Murray's  mind; 
he  was  filled  with  the  feeling  that  Captain  Allen 
had  been  his  enemy,  had  usurped  his  place  in  his 
son's  heart,  had  kept  Robert  from  him. 

They  reached  the  train  only  a  few  moments  be- 
fore it  left.  When  the  whistle  blew,  and  the  car 
from  the  junction  started  for  Lacy,  then  did 
Mr.  Murray  feel  as  if  at  last  his  son  was  re- 
stored to  him,  and  belonged  fully  to  himself. 
Every  instant  widened  the  separation  between 
him  and  the  Aliens.  He  had  no  care,  no 
thought  for  anything  but  Robert.  His  servant 
would,  according  to  previous  orders,  care  for 
the  luggage  at  the  chalet,  and  for  the  horse. 
Mr.  Murray  wished  never  to  see  Lacy  again, 
and  especially  that  district  of  Lai's  Mountain. 


214  '^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

The  plan  of  his  life  was  changed.  He  no  lon- 
ger thought  of  leaving  the  country.  No  ;  now 
he  would  stay  and  do  well  for  Robert.  Rob- 
ert must  be  educated  ;  Robert  must  be  intro- 
duced to  friends ;  Robert  must  be  pushed  on  in 
life ;  Robert  would  inherit  a  good  fortune ;  Rob- 
ert must  learn  to  love  his  new-found  father,  bet- 
ter than  the  people  whom  he  had  left ;  Robert's 
mind  must  be  weaned  from  the  past.  Mr.  Mur- 
ray's heart  sang  but  one  song,  Robert,  Robert, 
Robert.  Why  had  he  not,  by  divine  parental  pre- 
science, recognized  his  child,  years  ago,  he  asked 
himself.  No  doubt  a  mother's  heart  would 
have  realized  the  tie  which  his  nature  had  ig- 
nored. One  minute  he  upbraided  himself,  the 
next  the  Aliens. 

At  last  they  had  left  Lacy  behind.  Few  peo- 
ple were  in  the  car.  Mr.  Murray  put  his  arm 
about  Robert's  shoulders,  and  drew  him  near  to 
him.     He  took  from  his  pocket  two  pictures. 

"  Here,  my  son,  is  your  mother's  picture,  and 
yours,  at  the  age  when  you  were  stolen  from 
me.  What  a  fool  I  have  been  not  to  recognize 
in  you  your  mother's  eyes  and  hair." 

Robert  looked  at  the  picture.  The  lovely 
young  face  of  his  dead  mother  was  very  differ- 
ent from  the  plain,  care-worn,  mature  face  of 
Eliza  Allen,  but  there  was  the  same  mother- 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses.     215 

look  in  each.  He  felt  sure  that  his  dead  mclher 
would  have  loved  and  blessed  his  living  foster- 
mother,  for  her  care  of  him.  In  truth,  it  seemed 
easier  to  think  of  this  pictured-vvoman  as  moth- 
er, than  of  Mr.  Murray  as  father  ;  for  Robert's 
heart  was  sore,  and  his  sense  of  justice  wounded, 
by  the  abuse  that  the  Superintendent  had  show- 
ered on  Captain  Allen  and  his  family. 

When  we  are  young,  and  our  experiences  are 
narrow,  we  are  apt  to  be  severe  in  judging  oth- 
ers, being  too  ignorant  of  human  nature  to 
make  allowances.  The  other  day  I  heard  one 
say,  "  How  easy  your  own  faults  make  it  for 
you  to  forgive  others  ! "  Knowledge  of  our 
own  faults  has  not  always  this  beneficent  effect, 
but  it  should  have.  Robert  had  neither  seen 
enough,  nor  felt  enough  to  cover  with  the 
mantle  of  charity  his  new-found  father's  wrath. 
His  mind  was  not  with  the  Superintendent,  nor 
with  the  future  ;  but  with  the  crestfallen  Cap- 
tain, the  sturdy  Bop,  the  weeping  Eliza,  and 
Pink. 

But  Mr.  Murray,  with  his  arm  clasping  close- 
ly his  new-found  son,  was  telHng  in  his  ear  the 
painful  tale  of  his  loss ;  of  his  mother's  grief  and 
death  of  heart-break  ;  of  his  own  long,  miserable 
search,  and  the  years  whereof  he  could  write 
that  he  "  had  no  pleasure  in  them."     Such  a 


2i6  The  Captains  Bargain 

story  could  not  but  touch  Robert's  heart.  A  mist 
gathered  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  the  picture 
of  his  mother,  and  he  felt  that  it  should  be  his 
duty  and  his  happiness  to  comfort  the  so-long- 
wretched  father,  who  was  ready  to  pour  upon 
him  all  the  fullness  of  his  love. 

From  the  story  of  the  past  Mr.  Murray  went 
to  plans  for  the  future.  "  Robert,"  he  said,  "  I 
vnll  do  for  you  whatever  you  wish.  We  shall 
make  a  man  of  you.  The  first  thing  will  be  to 
send  you  to  a  first-class  school,  where  they  will 
push  you  on  in  languages  and  mathematics. 
You  have  wasted  your  time  long  enough  on 
such  a  little  paltry  school  as  that  of  the  Moun- 
tain. You  must  be  hurried  up  to  the  level  of 
other  boys  of  your  age.  And  such  a  school  as 
I  will  select  will  attend  carefully  to  your  man- 
ners. I  daresay  you  have  been  eating  with  steel 
forks,  and  not  using  finger-napkins,  and  have 
never  seen  a  finger-bowl.  All  these  little  refine- 
ments of  life  you  must  learn,  to  fit  you  for  the 
society  you  will  live  in.  You  are  fifteen  :  much 
can  be  learned  and  done  before  you  are  twenty- 
one.  Then  I  will  take  you  abroad  ;  you  shall 
see  the  world.  After  two  years  of  foreign  travel, 
you  shall  come  home,  and  go  into  business.  Or, 
Robert,  perhaps  you  would  prefer  the  army.  If 
you  do,  say  so.    I  have  influence  enough  to  get 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses.    217 

you  into  West  Point.  The  schoolmaster  says 
you  are  very  diligent  and  bright.  In  two  years" 
time  you  could  be  amply  fitted  for  West  Point. 
You  would  come  out  an  officer.  I  should  like 
to  see  you  with  a  pair  of  epaulettes  on  your 
shoulders.     Would  you  like  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Murray,"  faltered  the 
amazed  lad. 

"Mr.  Murray !     I'm  your  father,  boy." 

"  Father,  I  mean — I  forgot." 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  see,  habit,  habit.  Well,  we 
must  form  a  new  habit.  On  second  thought,  I 
should  not  prefer  the  army.  It  would  keep  you 
from  me  too  much,  and  then  you  might  be  killed 
in  an  Indian  skirmish,  or  in  a  war  if  we  had  a 
war.  Your  life  is  too  precious.  How  would 
you  like  the  navy?  I  have  influence  to  get  you 
into  Annapolis  Academy,  and  you  could  be 
tutored  for  the  admission  examinations.  You 
would  make  a  splendid  naval  officer,  I  am  sure. 
How  would  you  like  to  be  captain  of  a  man-of- 
war  ?  Something  better  that  than  the  barge 
Fair-  Weather,  eh  ?  You  might  become  Com- 
modore or  Admiral,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  M — father,  if  you  choose." 

"Yes.  But,  on  second  thought,  I  should 
not  like  the  navy.  I  could  not  sail  with  you. 
The  navy  would  part  us  too  much.     I  need  to 


2i8  The  Captains  Bargain. 

see  you  near  me,  to  make  up  for  all  these  lost, 
lonely  years.  We  will  not  think  of  the  navy, 
my  son.  How  would  you  like  to  go  to  the 
Polytechnic,  and  graduate,  and  be  a  mining 
engineer?  That  is  a  fine,  useful,  manly  busi- 
ness. We  could  travel  over  all  the  West  to- 
gether. You  would  become  an  expert,  an  au- 
thority. When  you  saw  a  chance  for  invest- 
ment, you  would  have  money  to  invest,  and 
some  venture  might  be  as  fortunate  as  was  that 
of  Agassiz,  when  hg  bought  mines  near  Lake 
Superior.  If  you  incline  rather  to  literature, 
Robert,  you  could  devote  yourself  to  study, 
study  in  Europe,  and  come  home  to  be  a  col- 
lege president.  That  would  suit  me  very 
well.  I  should  be  proud  of  you.  Or,  if  you 
have  a  taste  for  politics,  study  law  ;  your  money 
will,  at  once,  give  you  friends  and  influ- 
ence. You  could  be  sent  to  Congress ;  be 
Governor  of  your  State  ;  get  one  day  to  the 
White  House  !  I  wonder  could  I  live  long 
enough  to  see  you  inaugurated  President  of  the 
United  States  ! " 

In  fact,  if  Captain  Allen  had  been  glorieux 
when  he  found  Robert,  Mr.  Murray  was  now  ex- 
alUixom.  the  sudden  joy  of  getting  back  his  long- 
lost  boy.  He  ran  on,  in  a  state  of  excitement, 
presenting  picture  after  picture  of  possible  honor, 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses.     219 

fame,  luxury,  success,  to  the  bewildered  lad, 
who,  half  his  heart  yet  clinging  to  the  mill, 
Pink,  'Liza,  'Zekiel  and  Co.,  could  only  hear 
amazed,  and  say,  "  If  you  wish ";  "  Yes,  if 
you  like  ";  "  Yes,  Mr.  Murray — I  mean,  father." 

But  the  train  was  getting  over  the  ground 
well,  and  they  were  nearing  Philadelphia,  and 
the  cars  were  filling.  The  Superintendent's 
mind  turned  to  nearer  interests.  He  took  a 
fresh  start  in  planning.  The  gorgeous  card- 
houses  of  future  honors  were  abandoned  in  favor 
of  smaller  card-houses  of  present  conveniences. 
Robert,  a  handsome,  well-grown  lad,  wore  an 
old,  faded,  outgrown  suit,  too  short  in  sleeve  and 
leg,  and  with  more  than  one  patch,  neatly  set 
by  Eliza.  His  shirt  was  of  striped  cotton,  his 
shoes  cowhide,  and  his  blue  stockings,  knit  by 
Pink,  were  in  plain  sight  at  the  ankles.  Mr. 
Murray's  fatherly  pride  took  note  of  these  de- 
ficiencies, and  of  the  old  felt  hat  that  had  seen 
two  years'  wear,  and  survived  many  a  lively  tussle 
with  Bop  and  the  twins. 

"  We  will  get  our  dinner  at  the  station  res- 
taurant," Mr.  Murray  said,  "  and  then  we  will  go 
to  a  tailor,  and  get  you  fitted  out  from  head  to 
foot,  before  we  go  to  a  hotel.  We  will  give 
orders  for  more'  clothes  too,  handsome  clothes, 
the  best  there  are.     We  must  go  to  a  barber's. 


220  The  Captains  Bargain. 

It  is  a  pity  that  such  beautiful  curly  hair  as  yours 
has  been  so  villainously  cut !  " 

"  Mother  always  cut  my  hair,"  said  Robert. 

"  Mrs.  Allen  ?  Don't  say  mother  of  her,  your 
mother  is  dead." 

But  though  Robert's  heart  could  say  mother 
of  the  fair-faced  one  who  had  nursed  his  baby- 
hood, and  died  for  lack  of  him,  he  must  say  mo- 
ther also  of  that  valiant,  self-denying  Eliza,  who 
had  been  true  mother  to  him  for  the  ten  years 
within  his  clearest  memory.  He  was  silent  at 
Mr.  Murray's  pettish  remonstrance,  but  his  heart 
said  "  mother,  mother,  mother"  of  Eliza. 

All  was  hurry  and  stir  until  they  were  in  the 
quiet,  handsomely-furnished  room  of  a  first-class 
tailoring  establishment. 

"  I  want  this  young  gentleman  fitted  out  with 
a  full  wardrobe  of  your  best,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 
"  Have  you  a  nice  suit  in  stock  to  begin  on  ?  and 
you  can  take  his  measure  for  two  others.  What 
are  the  styles  ?  Knee-breeches  ?  Brass  buttons, 
plain  cloths,  silk-finished  cords?  Robert,  how 
would  you  like  one  suit  in  deep  navy-blue,  and 
one  in  fine,  dark  bottle-green  ?  " 

"  If  you  please,  Mr.  Mur — father,"  said  Rob- 
ert. 

"  We  have  a  handsome,  deep  brown  corduroy 
knee-breeches  suit,  with  Norfolk  jacket,"  said 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Card-Houses.    221 

the  tailor.     "  Made  to  order — was  a  little  small. 
I  am  sure  it  would  fit  this  young  gentleman." 

"  Bring  it,"  said  Mr.  Murray.  "  Do  you  keep 
hats  and  caps  ?  Can  you  order  a  trunk  to  put 
the  goods  in  ?  Will  you  send  out  for  shoes  and 
slippers  to  try  on  ?  Take  it  in  charge,  will  you, 
and  fit  him  out  completely  at  once.  Suppose 
we  begin  at  the  furnishing  department  and  get 
shirts  and  silk  underwear  and  let  him  put  a  suit 
on.    How  many  of  each  article  should  he  have?" 

The  merchant  had  a  conscience.  Although 
here  was  a  rich,  lavish,  excited  customer,  he 
did  not  think  it  right  to  make  him  buy  out  the 
whole  store.  He  said  as  Robert  was  a  growing 
boy,  a  half-dozen  of  things  would  be  enough. 
So  they  adjourned  to  the  furnishing  department, 
and  Mr.  Murray  held  up  neckties  to  try  their 
effect  on  Robert's  complexion,  and  disported 
himself  generally  rather  like  a  mother  buying 
a  dress  for  a  pretty  daughter's  first  party,  than 
like  the  father  of  a  big,  muscular  lad,  who  had 
lived  for  ten  years  in  a  saw-mill  and  was  now 
about  to  go  to  school. 

Robert  was  fairly  frightened  at  the  amount 
of  goods  bought  for  him.  What !  four  elegant 
neckties?  His  father,  Cnptain  Allen,  had  for 
two  years  worn  the  same  black-silk  stock  fash- 
ioned by  the  prudent  Eliza.    What !  six  pairs  of 


222  The  Captains  Bargain. 

fancy-colored  half-hose?  And  how  ignominiously 
were  the  blue  woolen  stockings  knit  by  dear  little 
Pink  discarded.  Robert  longed  to  rescue  one, 
but  dared  not.  What !  thirty  dollars  for  that  one 
suit  of  dark-brown  silk  corduroy  ?  Thirty  dol- 
lars !  Had  Eliza  and  Pink  had  as  much  spent 
in  dress  for  them  for  the  last  three  or  four  years  ? 
What  would  they  say, — what  would  they  think 
to  see  him  now  ?  And  to  tell  the  truth,  when 
he  saw  himself  in  all  his  new  glory  reflected  in 
a  long  glass,  he  wished  they  could  see  him  ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

"  THE  MAKING  OF  A  YOUNG  GENTLEMAN." 

It  was  long  after  dark  when  Robert  and  his 
new-found  father  left  the  tailor-shop.  Measures 
had  been  taken  for  two  more  suits  of  clothes, 
and  an  overcoat  trimmed  with  fur.  Robert 
could  now  hardly  realize  himself.  He  wore  the 
finest  of  clothing  throughout ;  on  his  feet  were 
a  pair  of  the  best  shoes  that  eight  dollars  could 
buy  ;  his  cap  cost  five  dollars.  He  had  hitherto 
only  worn  mittens  in  the  coldest  weather  ;  now 
he  had  on  tan  -  colored  kid  gloves.  A  hem- 
stitched, linen  kerchief  stuck  out  of  his  breast- 
pocket. A  trunk  was  already  nearly  packed 
with  what  Robert  considered  a  lavish,  wasteful, 
unnecessary  supply  of  clothing,  and  was  to  be 
sent  to  the  hotel.  Next,  Mr.  Murray  took  his 
son  to  a  barber-shop  to  have  his  hair  dressed  ; 
and  then  to  a  fine  bazaar,  where  he  bought  him 
a  dressing-case  with  a  quantity  of  ivory-backed 
brushes,  and  other  knick-knackery. 

"  We  will  now  go  to  the  hotel  and  leave  buy- 

(223) 


224  The  Captains  Bargain. 

ing  your  other  things  until  to-morrow,"  said  Mr. 
Murray. 

"  You  have  bought  me  more  than  enough, 
and  more  than  I  shall  ever  use,"  said  the  sturdy 
Robert. 

"  I  have  plenty  of  money,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

"  I  know  that — but — well,  it  seems  wrong  to 
have  all  these  things  when  other  people  have 
none." 

"  You  have  a  right  to  them  if  your  father  can 
pay  for  them,"  replied  Mr.  Murray,  proudly. 
**  You  will  see  how  much  better  it  is,  being 
with  your  true  father,  than  with  people  like  the 
Aliens." 

"You  give  me  what  I  need,  with  you,  and 
what  you  can  afford,"  said  Robert,  earnestly, 
"and  they  did  the  same.  It  comes  to  the  same 
thing,  sir,  as  far  as  I  can  see — and — and  I  have 
Lnown  my  mother  to  go  without  clothes  that  she 
needed,  so  that  I  could  have  shoes  for  winter  " — 
and  tears  were  in  Robert's  big,  steadfast  eyes  as 
lie  spoke  ;  for  now  he  had  two  pairs  of  fine  shoes, 
r.nd  a  pair  of  worked  slippers,  and  he  remem- 
l,ered  that  his  good  "mother's"  shoes  were 
patched,  and  Pink's,  oh,  poor  Pink's,  were 
nearly  out  at  the  toes  ! 

"  You  are  not  bound  to  measure  what  you 
have  by  what  other  folks  have,"  said  Mr.  Mur- 


'*  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman.'*   225 

ray.  "  We  are  going  to  the  hotel.  Have  you 
ever  seen  the  Continental  Hotel  ?  " 

"  Outside,  I  have,"  said  Robert,  placidly.  "  I 
never  went  inside  that  to  sell  jam  and  honey  and 
butter,  but  I  went  inside  a  lot  of  the  others." 

"My  goodness!"  cried  Mr.  Murray.  "I 
don't  see  what  those  Aliens  meant  by  sending 
my  son  about  as  a  huckster ! " 

"  But  I  w^as  their  son  then,"  said  Robert, 
"  and  I  am  afraid  we  might  have  all  starved  if 
we  had  not  tried  something  like  that.  I  in- 
vented the  jam-seUing,  and  we  made  money  by 
it  too,  and  I  was  awfully  glad  to  do  it.  They 
treated  me  well  at  the  hotels,  and  some  of  them 
told  me  I  would  make  a  fine  business  man.  I 
hope  I  will." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Murray.  "  I  hope,  my 
son,  that  you  will  succeed  in  whatever  you  undei- 
take." 

They  walked  on  in  silence  to  the  hotel.  Mr. 
Murray  was  inwardly  resentful  that  "  those 
Aliens"  had  sent  his  son  on  trading  expeditions 
to  the  doors  of  hotels  and  boarding-houses  ;  and 
Robert  was  calculating  how  long  it  was  likely 
to  be  before  he  could  go  into  business,  "  and 
make  a  whole  lot  of  money,"  and  send  it  in  toto 
to  Captain  'Zekiel,  to  pay  off  the  mortgage,  re- 
pair the  mill,  build  a  house,  replenish  the  ward- 


226  The  Captains  Bargain. 

robes  of  all  the  family,  and  put  "  well,  as  much 
as  two  thousand  in  the  bank." 

They  reached  the  hotel,  and  were  taken  to 
two  fine  communicating  rooms.  Then  they 
went  down  to  supper,  and  Mr.  Murray  watched 
Robert's  every  motion,  and  kept  up  a  very  dis- 
comfiting whisper  about  "  do  so,  don't  do  so ; 
not  this,  not  that,"  and  poor  Robert,  who  had 
heretofore  eaten  his  humble  meals  in  blessed 
peace,  was  driven  nearly  out  of  his  wits.  Still, 
Eliza  Allen  had  been  fairly  careful  of  her  chil- 
dren's manners,  and  Robert  was  naturally  refined 
and  delicate  in  his  ways,  so  that  really  he  was 
conducting  himself  properly,  and  Mr.  Murray 
was  very  proud  of  him.  His  hints  were  chiefly 
the  outgrowth  of  nervous  excitement,  and  a 
captious  feeling  that  the  pupil  of  "the  Aliens" 
must  need  correction.  Among  the  persons  in 
the  dining-hall  were  several  whom  Mr.  Murray 
knew,  and  great  was  his  pride  in  introducing  the 
tall,  handsome  Robert  as  "  My  son  ";  and  hear- 
ing the  compliments  that  were  paid  him. 

"  I  heard  you  were  going  abroad,  Murray," 
said  one. 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind.  I  shall  remain 
here  to  attend  strictly  to  the  education  of  my  son, 
and  defer  going  abroad  for  five  years,  until  I  can 
take  him,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  flushed  and  happy. 


**  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman"  227 

The  next  day  Robert's  new  father  went  out 
with  him  again.  Then  there  was  more  buying. 
A  knife ;  how  glad  Robert  was  that  his  own 
knife,  a  gift  from  Mr.  Murray,  was  accidentally 
in  Bop's  pocket,  not  his,  when  he  left  "  home." 
A  Russia-leather  pocket-book — when  could  he 
fill  it  for  them  ? 

"  Oh,  you  must  have  a  Bible,"  said  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, and  went  in  and  bought  a  fine  Oxford 
Teacher's  Bible. 

Eliza  had  once  given  Robert  a  six-cent  Testa- 
ment on  Christmas,  and  he  had  left  it  at  "  home  " 
on  the  shelf  in  the  wall  at  the  head  of  his  bed. 

"  My  dear  boy,  the  Bible  should  be  from  your 
own  dear  mother.  What  a  loss  you  have  had 
in  losing  her.  She  would  have  taught  you  and 
helped  you  as  I  cannot.  All  I  can  do  is  to  write 
in  this  Bible,  '  Our  Son.  In  memory  of  his  dead 
mother.' " 

Yes,  Robert  liked  and  would  value  that.  But 
there  was  the  living  mother,  who  had  earned  the 
six  pence  which  paid  for  the  little  black-cloth 
Testament.  She  had  written  his  name  in  it, 
and  the  verse,  "Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man 
cleanse  his  way  ?  By  taking  heed  thereto  ac- 
cording to  Thy  word."  And  she  had  taught 
him  texts  before  he  could  read  ;  she  had  told 
him  Bible  stories ;  she  had  heard  him  say  his 


228  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

prayers,  kneeling  with  Pink  on  one  side  of  him, 
and  Bop  on  the  other,  when  they  were  all  little 
dimpled  creatures.  It  hurt  Robert  to  have  all 
this  care  of  Eliza's  ignored,  but  he  saw  that 
mention  of  the  Aliens  irritated  his  father.  But 
the  glory  of  that  day  was  a  visit  to  a  jeweller's, 
where  Mr.  Murray  bought  a  very  good  watch, 
with  a  short,  modest  chain,  and  presented  them 
to  Robert.  Oh,  what  a  watch  !  It  was  not  in 
X.^^  heart  of  a  human  boy  to  resist  such  a  watch. 
It  was  a  joy  to  own  that  watch,  even  though  he 
remembered  that  Captain  'Zekiel  had  none. 

Well,  whatever  Mr.  Murray  saw  he  wanted 
to  buy  for  Robert,  a  scarf-pin,  sleeve-links — 
whatever  he  could  do  to  make  of  this  sturdy, 
simple,  honest  boy,  a  ridiculous  young  dandy, 
Mr.  Murray  was  ready  in  his  folly  to  do.  Not 
that  he  would  be  willing  to  change  this  decent, 
generous,  unselfish,  humble  spirit,  into  a  vain, 
self-conceited,  lazy  trifler.  He  took  means  to 
that  end  without  a  thought  of  that  end.  It 
was  a  true  blessing  of  heaven,  that  ten  years  of 
hard  work,  humility,  self-sacrifice,  and  sound 
training  had  made  Robert  hard  to  spoil. 

"  Wine,  sir  ?  Wine  for  you  and  the  young 
gentleman  ?"  said  the  brisk  waiter  at  dinner. 

"  No  !"  cried  Mr.  Murray.  "  Why  don't  you 
go  about    saying  arsenic,  prussic  acid,  strych- 


**  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman"    229 

nine,  if  you  must  vend  poisons  ?  Try  them 
for  a  change." 

"  Oh,  sir  ! "  remonstrated  the  waiter,  "  our 
vyines  are  the  very  best." 

"  Warranted  to  kill  at  sight — like  the  rest  ? " 
said  the  irascible  Mr.  Murray. 

The  waiter  went  off  smiling.  "  Temperance 
crank,"  he  confided  to  the  other  waiters. 

After  dinner  Mr.  Murray  asked  Robert  to 
wait  in  their  rooms  for  him.  He  went  off,  and 
came  back  with  a  roll  in  his  hand.  He  sat 
down,  and  wiped  his  face,  with  a  long  sigh. 

"  Robert,  you  understand,  you  know,  how  it 
was  that  I  lost  you  ?  I  was — drunk.  By  that 
drinking  I  broke  up  my  home,  caused  your  poor 
mother's  most  unhappy  death,  lost  you,  black- 
ened all  my  life.  Robert,  you  can  see  how  I 
love  you — but — I  would  far  rather  see  you  dead 
than  given  to  wine  or  strong  drink.  Robert, 
have  you  ever  signed  a  pledge  ?" 

"  No,  sir.  But  I've  heard  plenty  of  temper- 
ance. Mother  was  great  on  that.  They  called 
me  '  The  Captain's  Bargain  '  because  father  bar- 
gained he  would  never  drink  a  drop  more,  if  I 
stayed  vvith  him." 

"  I  wish  I  had  made  such  a  bargain  with  my- 
self, when  God  gave  you  to  me  first,"  said  poor 
Mr.  Murray,  "  then  I  should  never  have  heard 


230  The  Captains  Bargain. 

you,  my  only  child,  calling  strangers  '  father 
and  mother.'  Well,  Robert,  I  want  you  to  sign 
a  pledge.  I  want  to  feel  safe  about  you — to 
make  you  safe.  I  know  you  will  keep  to  what 
you  pledge  and  promise.  I  went  out  and  bought 
a  Pledge — here  it  is.  Read  it  over,  my  son. 
Read  it  and  think  about  it,  and  then  sign  it,  if 
you  mean  to  keep  it  to  the  very  last  letter,  in 
the  fear  of  God." 

"  Of  course  I'll  sign  it,"  said  Robert  ;  "  lend 
me  your  pen,  please,  father.  I  know  what  it 
means.  I  should  keep  it  without  signing.  My 
mother  made  a  temperance  man  of  me  long 
ago.     I  never  thought  of  anything  else." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  she  did,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 
*'  I  see,  I  must  owe  everything  to  these  Aliens." 

"Why  not?"  said  Robert,  frankly.  "I'd 
have  been  in  a  poorhouse  only  for  them.  There, 
it  is  signed,  father." 

"  I  see  I  have  forgotten  to  buy  you  a  pen, 
Robert ;  come  out,  and  I  will  buy  you  a  gold 
pen,  and  a  writing-desk.  You  will  not  owe 
them  to  any  one  but  me." 

That  writing-desk  was  a  true  treasure,  for  it 
was  well  stocked,  and  had,  among  other  things, 
postal-cards  and  letter-stamps.  That  evening, 
while  his  father  talked  to  some  friends,  Robert 
managed  to  send  off  a  card  to  the  Captain.  In  the 


*' The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentlemany    231 

morning,  while  his  father  was  yet  asleep,  Robert 
rose,  and  wrote  a  long  letter  to  his  mother,  Eliza, 
telling  how  good  his  new-found  father  was,  and 
how  lavish  in  gifts,  and  how  fond  of  him.  And 
then  he  wrote,  that  he  knew  he  should  never 
be  happy  anywhere  but  at  the  mill  ;  he  would 
be  glad  to  give  up  all  his  new  possessions,  to 
go  back  and  be  "  their  boy  "  once  more.  All 
the  things  in  the  world  would  not  make  up  for 
his  mother,  and  dear  Pink.  They  might  be 
sure  he  thought  of  them  every  hour  in  the  day. 
Eight  pages  of  clear,  boyish  writing  did  Robert 
mail  to  the  Captain.  Over  that  letter  the  en- 
tire Allen  household  cried  again  and  again. 
The  schoolmaster  read  it,  proud  of  his  pupil's 
head  and  heart  ;  the  Britts  read  it,  all  the  dis- 
trict read  it,  and  agreed  that  Robert  deserved 
all  the  best  that  the  Superintendent  could  do 
for  him,  and  that  "  the  Aliens  had  had  a  dread- 
ful loss." 

"  But  he'll  never  get  back  here.  Mr.  Murray 
will  not  let  him  out  of  his  sight  again,"  said 
Deacon  Britt. 

But  Mr.  Murray's  pride  and  ambition  for 
his  son  were  equal  even  to  letting  him  live 
apart  from  him  for  a  time.  A  week  after  he 
had  carried  Robert  off  in  triumph  from  the 
mill,  he  said  to  him :  "  My  dear  boy,  it  would 


232  The  Captains  Bargain. 

be  very  pleasant  for  us  to  go  on  living  here,  at 
the  hotel,  buying  things,  and  seeing  sights  all 
day  long  ;  but  at  that  rate  you  would  become 
an  idler,  and  after  idleness  comes  mischief.  I 
must  not  spoil  the  industry  and  uprightness 
that  have  always  been  so  beautiful  in  you,  to 
me.     You  must  go  to  school." 

"  I  like  to  go  to  school,"  said  Robert. 

"  But  this  will  be  a  very  different  affair  from 
the  red  school-house  up  on  the  Mountain.  You 
must  apply  yourself  to  Latin  and  French  and 
German.  I  have  been  to  see  the  master  of  a  school, 
about  ten  miles  from  the  city.  He  says,  as  you 
have  had  so  few  advantages,  and  are  so  far  be- 
hind other  boys,  you  had  better  board  at  the 
school.  You  will  be  able  to  give  closer  atten- 
tion to  your  studies.  I  will  go  out  to  see  you 
every  Saturday  afternoon,  and  once  a  month 
you  shall  come  here  Friday  evening,  and  stay 
until  Monday  morning.  I  wanted  you  to  have 
a  room  by  yourself,  so  that  I  could  furnish  it 
up  handsomely,  but  the  master  says  he  has  the 
boys  in  dormitories,  six  or  eight  in  each,  and 
that  it  will  be  far  better  for  you  to  be  with  the 
rest,  as  you  have  seen  so  little  of  other  boys." 

"  But  I  have  seen  a  great  deal  of  other  boys," 
said  Robert ;  "  I  have  always  known  plenty  of 
boys." 


*^  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman.''    233 

"  I  mean  boys  of  your  own  station  in  life, — 
youfg  gentlemen, — nice  boys." 

*•  I  don't  think  there  could  be  nicer  boys  than 
those  I  knew  on  the  Mountain,"  said  Robert. 
"  They  knew  all  kinds  of  games ;  they  could 
ride,  and  swim,  and  dive,  and  fish,  and  shoot, 
and  climb.  They  minded  what  was  said  to 
them,  told  the  truth,  learned  their  lessons,  were 
all  teetotalers,  and  were  never  ugly  or  saucy  to 
the  girls.  You  don't  know,  father,  what  nice 
boys  were  at  our  red  school-house." 

"  Yes  ?  Well,  no  doubt  you  will  be  just  as 
pleased  with  your  new  schoolmates.  I  hope 
you  will  be  happy  at  the  school.  Even  if  you 
do  not  like  it  there,  you  know  school-life  is  nec- 
essary for  you,  and  the  more  diligent  you  are, 
the  sooner  it  will  be  over,  and  I  will  take  you 
to  see  all  the  famous  countries  of  the  old 
world." 

Robert  made  no  answer.  He  did  not  say 
what  he  might  have  said  truly,  that  Lai's  Moun- 
tain looked  to  him  far  more  beautiful  than  all 
the  countries  of  the  old  world,  and  that  he  was 
full  of  a  deadly  home-sickness  for  the  mill  and 
the  dear  faces  there.  The  reverence  which  Eliza 
had  inculcated  for  parents  and  elders  restrained 
him,  and  to  it  was  added  Lai's  Mountain  respect 
for  the  great  man, — the  Superintendent   As  yet, 


234  1^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

Robert  had  not  been  able  to  lose  the  Superin- 
tendent in  the  father. 

"They  will  be  rather  strict  at  the  school,"  said 
Mr.  Murray.  "  I  meant  to  give  you  ten  dollars 
a  month  for  pocket-money,  but  the  master  only 
allows  two  dollars." 

"  That  will  make  no  difference  to  me,"  said 
Robert,  "for  I  have  never  had  any  money  to 
spend." 

"  Still,  you  should  become  accustomed  to  the 
use  of  money.  I  think  I  shall  give  it  to  you  just 
the  same,  and  you  can  take  two  dollars  of  it  to 
school.  What  will  you  do  with  the  rest  ?  How 
will  you  spend  it  ?" 

"  I  shall  not  spend  it,"  said  Robert ;  "  I  shall 
put  the  whole  ten  dollars  in  a  bag  every  month 
and  keep  it  in  my  trunk.  Ten  dollars  a  month 
will  be  a  hundred  and  twenty  dollars  in  a  year." 

Mr.  Murray  shook  his  head. 

"  Early  poverty  makes  of  some  men  misers, 
of  others  spendthrifts.  One  extreme  is  about 
as  bad  as  the  other.  Money  hoarded,  money 
wasted,  alike  curse  the  world.  Money  is  valu- 
able only  for  what  good  it  will  secure  for  us. 
What  good  will  money  do  in  a  trunk  ?  " 

"  In  two  years,"  said  Robert,  "  I  shall  have 
two  hundred  and  forty  dollars.  Then  I  shall 
send  Pink  for  a  year  to  a  school  where  she  can 


^*  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman^    235 

learn  music.  You  don't  know  how  Pink  loves 
music.  She  sings  just  like  a  bird.  I  heard 
mother  ask  the  master  once  about  schools  where 
Pink  could  learn  music,  and  the  cheapest  was 
two  hundred  dollars  a  year.  The  forty  dollars 
would  pay  her  car-fare  and  buy  her  some  shoes 
and  frocks.  Mother  said  a  music-school  was  far 
out  of  Pink's  reach.  But  it  will  not  be  if  I  pay 
for  it." 

"And  you  would  save  up  every  penny  for 
two  years  for  that?"  cried  Mr.  Murray,  in  a 
vexed  tone. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Robert.  "  I  never  have 
had  money  to  spend.  And  you  are  so  kind  to 
me,  father,  and  give  me  so  many  things,  that 
there  is  nothing  left  for  me  to  buy." 

This  planning  for  the  benefit  of  the  Allen 
family  did  nol;"  stir  up  Mr.  Murray  to  consider 
his  own  obligations  to  them.  It  rather  stirred 
up  his  wrath  that  the  Aliens  had  so  large  a  share 
of  his  son's  heart.  In  his  paternal  feelings  he 
was  so  unreasonable  that  all  whom  Robert  loved 
seemed  his  father's  rivals  and  enemies.  He  told 
himself  that  it  was  quite  time  Robert  went  to 
school,  where  hard  study,  a  new  phase  of  life, 
and  the  sports  of  boys  who  were  used  to  the 
city  and  the  boarding-school,  and  had  nothing 
in  common  with  mills,  barges,  country  schools, 


236  The  Captains  Bargain. 

and  little  red-headed  maids  in  calico  gowns, 
would  wean  Robert's  thoughts  from  the  Allen 
household.  Pink  and  Eliza  seemed  to  Mr.  Mur- 
ray the  especial  foes  of  his  peace.  He  pointed 
out  to  Robert  one  of  the  ladies  who  lived  at  the 
hotel  and  came  down  to  breakfast  daily  in  a 
splendid  silk  morning-robe. 

"  Now,  Robert,  there  is  a  lady ;  the  kind  of 
lady  you  will  see  in  society  when  you  are  a  man. 
What  do  you  think  of  her?" 

"  She  looks  very  well,  but  not — very  useful," 
said  the  boy,  "  and  I  don't  think  her  face  is  half 
as  nice  as  my  mother's — my  mother  Allen's,  I 
mean — for  I  never  saw  any  face  half  as  nice  as 
the  one  in  my  real  mother's  picture." 

"  I'm  glad  you  have  sense  to  appreciate  that," 
said  his  father.  "  And  what  do  you  think  of 
those  two  little  girls  in  dark  blue,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  hall  ?  " 

"  They  don't  begin  with  Pink,"  said  Robert, 
scornfully. 

"  Pink  has  red  hair.  I  don't  like  red  hair, 
myself." 

"  Oh,  father  !  Pink's  hair  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful gold  color  !  Sometimes  you  cannot  tell  it 
from  the  color  of  mother's  wedding-ring  !  And 
Pink's  eyes  are  just  as  blue  as  the  sky,  or  as 
violets.     And  Pink  is  so  kind  to  the  twins,  and 


''The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman^    237 

so  nice  to  her  mother.  I  heard  that  biggest  girl 
say,  '  Indeed,  I  won't,'  to  her  mother  yesterday ; 
and  that  other  one  gave  her  little  brother  a  slap 
for  getting  some  candy  on  her  dress.  Pink  and 
mother  are  worth  the  whole  lot  in  this  hotel !  If 
you'd  only  go  up  there,  and  get  acquainted  with 
them,  father,  you'd  see " 

Robert's  eyes  shone  with  eager  pleading.   But 
Mr.  Murray  was  an  obstinate  and  a  jealous  man 
He  shook  his  head  again. 

"  No,  no,  you've  seen  quite  too  much  of  them, 
Robert." 

Robert  and  his  father  were  sitting  in  their 
room  reading,  the  next  evening,  when  Robert, 
hearing  a  deep  sigh,  looked  up,  and  saw  that  his 
father  had  sunk  back  in  his  chair,  his  face  very 
white,  and  that  he  seemed  quite  unconscious. 
He  sprang  to  him,  wheeled  his  chair  to  the 
window,  which  he  threw  open,  then  bathed  *his 
face,  and  rubbed  his  hands,  and  loosened  his 
necktie  and  collar.  Presently  Mr.  Murray  re- 
vived a  little. 

"  Give  me  that  bottle  of  medicine  from  my 
dressing-case,  Robert.  There,  help  me  to  the 
sofa.     No,  don't  ring — I'm  used  to  this." 

He  lay  for  a  time  quietly.  Then  he  said,  as 
Robert  kept  close  by  him,  and  looked  distressed; 

"  You  were  frightened,  my  boy  ?  " 


238  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Oh,  yes !  I  thought  you  were  dead !  I 
never  saw  any  one  faint  before,  except  Mrs. 
Britt,  once.     Are  you  better  now  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Ever  since  my  troubles  in  losing  you 
and  your  dear  mother,  I  have  had  these  attacks. 
You  felt  badly  to  see  me  so,  did  you,  Robert  ? " 

"  Indeed  I  did,"  said  Robert,  resting  his  head 
on  Mr.  Murray's  prematurely  gray  hair. 

At  the  sight  of  Mr.  Murray  lying  as  if  dead, 
the  boy's  heart  had  recognized,  as  never  before, 
the  filial  tie.  He  knew  that  he  loved  this  late- 
found  father. 

"  Robert,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  presently,  "what 
would  you  have  done  if  I  had  died  ?  " 

Robert  was  silent. 

"  Tell  me,  my  son,  suppose  that  I  had  died, 
Virhat  then?" 

"  Why — I  suppose  I  should  have  gone  back 
to  the  mill.     Where  else  could  I  go,  father  ?  " 

"  And  what  would  you  do  with  all  your 
money,  my  son  ?  " 

"What  money,  sir?  I  would  not  have  any 
money,  would  I  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  you  would  have  all  mine.  Are 
you  not  my  only  son  and  heir?  You  would 
have  many  thousands,  Robert.  What  would 
you  do  with  your  money  ?     Speak  up." 

"  I  should  do  with  it — ^just  whatever  my  mother 


'*  The  Making  of  a  Young  Gentleman^    239 

told  me  to,"  said  Robert.  "  I  should  make 
father — Allen — take  all  that  they  need,  and  I 
should  do  as  mother  advised  with  the  rest. 
Every  one  says  mother  is  a  businesswoman,  and 
has  such  a  good  head.  But,  don't  ask  me  things 
like  that,  please,  father.  You  won't  die,  will 
you  ?  Are  you  sure  you  are  better  ?  I  couldn't 
bear  to  have  you  die,  you  know." 

This  assurance  gave  some  consolation  to  poor 
Mr.  Murray  in  the  midst  of  his  jealous  suspicion 
of  the  Allen  influence. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

"A    TOKEN    OF    MY    TRUE    LOVE." 

That  night  while  Robert  slept  soundly,  Mr. 
Murray,  in  the  next  room,  spent  many  wakeful 
hours.  Since  finding  his  son,  Mr.  Murray  had 
thought  of  nothing  but  the  joy  of  the  present 
hour.  He  seemed  to  have  a  new  lease  of  life, 
and  to  see,  in  prospect,  many  happy  years  spent 
with  his  boy.  Robert  should  become  all  that 
his  father's  most  ambitious  dreams  forecast  for 
him ;  he  should  escape  the  moral  rocks  and 
quicksands  whereon  his  father's  life  had  come  to 
wreck  ;  his  father  would  renew  his  own  youth, 
and  live  a  new  and  better  life  in  the  son.  But 
the  fainting  fit  in  the  evening,  and  the  short 
conversation  after  it,  had  filled  Mr.  Murray  with 
new  fears.  If  he  should  die,  his  son  would  re- 
turn to  the  Aliens,  and  soon  forget  the  father 
who  had  been  so  short  an  episode  in  his  life. 
All  the  Murray  fortunes  would  be  bestowed  on 
the  Aliens,  who,  as  poor  Mr.  Murray  insisted 
on  believing,  had  robbed  him  of  his  boy,  usurped 
(240) 


**A    Token  of  my   True  Love''         241 

his  place  in  his  child's  heart,  refused  to  give  hir. 
his  own  son  ! 

Mr.  Murray  resolved  at  once  to  perform  tw 
neglected  duties.  He  would  go  to  a  physicia:. 
of  eminence,  and  have  a  thorough  examinatioi 
of  his  own  physical  state,  and  learn  what  were 
his  probable  prospects  of  life.  Then  he  would 
go  to  a  lawyer,  and  have  a  will  drawn  up,  leav- 
ing his  property  to  Robert,  in  the  hands  of  a 
Trust  Company,  and  appointing  two  guardians 
of  his  person,  so  that  he  should  not  go  back  to 
Lai's  Mountain.  Moreover,  as  Allen  influence 
was  so  strong  in  the  lad's  heart,  Mr.  Murray 
concluded  to  give  him  more  time  to  outgrow 
it,  and  determined  to  set  not  twenty-one,  but 
twenty-four,  as  the  time  when  Robert  should 
come  into  possession  of  his  property.  He  was 
determined  not  to  allow  Robert  to  throw  him- 
self and  his  money  away  on  "  those  people  at  the 
mill." 

Therefore,  when  breakfast  was  over,  Mr.  Mur- 
ray said,  "  I  have  business,  Robert,  which  will 
keep  me  away  from  you  until  our  six  o'clock 
dinner.  I  suppose  you  know  your  way  about 
the  city,  and  can  entertain  yourself.  I  will  give 
you  some  money  to  spend.  Here — here  are  ten 
dollars." 

He  handed  Robert  a  ten-dollar  bill.     They 


242  The  Captains  Bargain. 

went  out  upon  the  hotel  steps  and  Mr.  Murray 
signalled  a  carriage  for  himself. 

"  Enjoy  yourself,  Robert.  Go  to  Fairmount 
Park  or  somewhere.  But,  stop.  A  ten-dollar 
bill  will  be  large  to  change  ;  here  is  a  two,  also, 
in  case  you  need  car-fare  or  some  small  thing." 

He  stepped  into  the  carriage  and  drove  off, 
leaving  Robert  with  the  open  pocket-book  in  his 
hand,  and  the  two  bills  looking  out  of  the  Rus- 
sia-leather pockets.  Oh  dear,  how  very  glad  he 
would  be  if  he  could  put  that  money  in  Eliza's 
hand  and  beg  her  to  use  it  for  the  family.  But 
he  knew  the  sturdy  independence  of  Eliza  and 
her  family.  She  would  not  take  a  gift  of  money, 
— that  money  being  Mr.  Murray's  gift  to  him. 
She  had  not  refused  Robert's  earnings  ;  she  took 
them  freely  when  he  gave  them,  just  as  she  free- 
ly shared  her  earnings  with  him.  But  this  money 
would  be  different ;  she  would  not  accept  it. 
Then  came  the  happy  thought :  she  would  not 
refuse;  she  could  not  return  a  present  pur- 
chased as  a  token  of  his  love  with  this  money. 
He  had  the  whole  day  before  him.  Why  should 
he  not  go  shopping  ?  Why  should  he  not  spend 
that  twelve  dollars  in  a  gift  to  each  member  of 
the  beloved  household  and  send  it  to  them  to 
show  them  that  his  heart  was  with  them,  though 
in  bodily  presence  he  might  not  be  with  them 


**A    Token  of  my   True  Love.''         243 

for  years  ?  There  was  a  store  where  Eliza  had 
liked  to  trade,  and  where  she  had  been  wont  to 
say  that  goods  were  cheap  and  well-selected,  and 
the  young  girl-clerks  were  very  good  and  atten- 
tive. There  Robert  would  go  and  do  his  shop- 
ping. But  what  should  he  get,  and  how  much 
would  twelve  dollars  buy  ?  Who  could  tell 
him  ?  He  would  throw  himself  upon  the  mer- 
cies of  a  girl-clerk. 

Now,  as  it  was  early  in  the  day,  before  the 
tide  of  shopping  began  to  flow  fast  and  furi- 
ous through  the  big  store,  when  Robert,  a 
very  handsome  and  winsome  fifteen  -  year  -  old 
boy,  most  faultlessly  arrayed,  put  his  face  in- 
side the  door  of  the  huge  establishment,  he 
saw  behind  a  counter,  standing  at  ease,  a  very 
smiling  and  pretty  maiden,  with  rosy  cheeks  and 
golden  hair, — a  kind  of  eighteen-year-old  Pink. 
To  her,  as  to  a  tutelar  angel,  did  Robert  turn 
for  counsel  and  direction. 

"  If  you  please.  Miss,  I  want  to  buy  a  present 
— for  my  mother — and  sister." 

"  Yes  ?  Fancy  goods  ?  laces  ?  albums  ? 
Which  department  of  the  store  will  you  go  to  ?  " 

"  I  think — I  had — better  get  dresses." 

"Oh,"  said  the  damsel,  taking  in  Robert's 
fine  linen,  bottle-green  cloth,  and  tan-colored 
kid  gloves.     "  Something  in  silk,  then  ?  " 


244  ^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

Robert  was  quick-witted  enough  to  see  the 
situation. 

"  No,  if  you  please,"  he  said,  sitting  down  be- 
fore the  counter  and  bending  over  to  intrust 
his  confidences  to  the  maiden.  "  They  are  my 
adopted  mother  and  sister,  and  the  rest — they 
live  in  the  country  and  they  are  poor.  I  want 
to  send  them  all  presents,  and  I  have  twelve 
dollars,  and  I  want  to  make  it  go  as  far  as  I  can. 
I  wish  you  would  help  me  pick  out  the  things. 
I  never  went  shopping  before.  I  can  sell  things, 
but  I  don't  understand  buying." 

"  I  see,"  said  the  damsel. 

So  she  slipped  from  behind  the  counter  and  had 
a  short  interview  with  a  stout  "  floor-walker." 

"  I  may  go  with  you  and  help  you  do  your 
shopping,"  said  the  girl,  coming  back  to  Rob- 
ert. "  We  have  some  excellent  bargains  in 
dress-goods,  if  you  don't  mind  last  winter's 
goods  instead  of  this  fall's  patterns.  How  old 
is  your  sister  ?  " 

"  She  is  thirteen,  and  she  has  blue  eyes  and 
yellow  hair." 

"  Is  your  Qiother  a  big  woman  ?  " 

"  No  ;  she  is  a  little  woman.  She  is  thin,  and 
not  so  tall  as  you  are.     She  is  dark." 

"  Now,  I  know  about  the  colors  and  the  num- 
ber of  yards  you  will  want,"  said  the  obliging 


**A    Token  of  my   True  Love"         245 

girl,  "  so  let  us  go  to  the  bargain  counter.  But 
tell  me,  first — how  many  other  presents  must 
you  get  out  of  the  twelve  dollars  ?  " 

"There  is  the  little  sister — the  twin — she  is 
ten.  I  would  like  to  get  her  a  calico  dress. 
Besides  these,  are  father,  Bop,  Jerry,  and  the 
other  twin, — the  boy.  I  want  to  get  them  all 
something,  and  I  must  save  out  enough  to  pay 
for  sending  the  package  up  to  Lai's  Mountain." 

The  girl  consulted  a  book. 

"We  can  send  the  parcel  for  you  for  fifty 
cents.  Will  you  get  handkerchiefs  and  neck- 
ties for  your  father  and  the  boys  ?  We  have 
some  very  good  bargains  in  those  things  just 
now.  Or  stockings, — we  have  a  very  cheap  line 
of  stockings." 

"  Pink  knits  all  the  stockings." 

"  She  must  be  busy,  then,  to  knit  for  such  a 
lot  of  them." 

"  She  is  busy.  She  always  has  her  knitting 
in  hand.  But  then,  for  Jerry,  one  stocking  is  a 
pair ;  for  you  see  he  has  one  wooden  leg,  and 
that  saves  him  one  stocking." 

"  I  hope  none  of  the  rest  are  so  unlucky," 
said  the  girl,  laughing. 

"  No,  they  are  not.  And  then,  too,  Jerry  has 
only  one  eye.  But  for  all  he  has  only  one  leg, 
and  one  eye,  he  can  run  the  mill." 


246  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Ah  !  a  mill,  is  it  ?  That  accounts  for  the 
one  leg  and  the  one  eye.  Mills  are  terribly  dan- 
gerous places.  I  wonder  they  leave  any  one 
alive  that  goes  near  them." 

"  Our  mill  is  not  dangerous.  And,  then,  it 
was  not  the  mill  that  hurt  Jerry.  Whiskey  did 
it!" 

"  Oh  !  Well,  I  hope  Master  Jerry  has  re- 
formed. He  had  better  have  left  whiskey  alone. 
Let  it  alone,  I  say,  and  it  won't  hurt  you." 

"  I  think  you  make  a  mistake  there,"  said 
Robert.  "Jerry  let  it  alone  ;  he  never  touched 
a  drop  in  his  life,  and  yet  he  lost  a  leg  and  one 
eye  because  other  folks  touched  it.  It  seems 
we  are  never  safe  from  whiskey,  as  long  as  any 
one  uses  it.  A  drunken  carman  lost  Jerry  a 
leg,  and  a  drunken  shoemaker  lost  him  an  eye." 

'•  Possible  ! "  cried  the  girl.  "  Do  you  see  this 
white  ribbon  I  wear?  It  means  I  belong:  to  the 
Temperance  Union,  and  now  I  shall  change  my 
motto,  and  instead  of  saying,  '  Let  it  alone  and 
it  won't  hurt  you,'  I  will  say,  'As  long  as  there 
is  any  of  it  made,  it  may  hurt  you.' " 

They  had  been  threading  the  mazes  of  the 
store,  and  turning  over  a  great  pile  of  woolen 
dress-goods  during  this  chat.  The  pleasant  girl 
now  fixed  on  a  piece  of  goods  of  small  blue-and- 
black  plaid. 


"A    Token  of  my    True  Love''         247 

•*  There  !  This  is  nice,  and  very  cheap,  and 
just  enough  for  a  girl  of  thirteen  who  does  not 
use  many  furbelows.  I  should  take  that,  if  I 
were  you.  And  this  dark-brown  serge  is  a  rem- 
nant, sold  cheap.  I  am  sure  your  mother  would 
like  that.  Come  over  to  the  calico  counter. 
Here  is  a  very  nice  dark  piece,  with  violets  on 
't.     That  is  going  at  about  half-price." 

Robert  agreed  to  the  young  girl's  taste,  and 
then  followed  her  to  the  baskets  where  were 
bargains  in  handkerchiefs,  neckties,  and  other 
small  wares.  He  bought  a  pair  of  chamois-skin 
gloves  for  Captain  Allen,  and  a  leather  pocket- 
book — alas !  that  it  was  doomed  to  be  so  empty 
— -ties  and  handkerchiefs  for  Jerry  and  the  boys, 
and  buttons  and  other  material  for  making  up 
the  dresses.  He  was  overjoyed  to  find  how  far 
the  pretty  little  maid  made  his  money  go,  and 
had  not  been  so  happy  since  he  was  torn  from 
his  home  and  the  family  therein.  At  last,  eleven 
dollars  and  a  half,  to  the  very  last  cent,  were 
spent. 

"  You  write  out  the  address  for  me,"  said  the 
girl,  "and  I  will  have  the  parcel  sent,  prepaid." 

"  Will  you  give  me  a  card  to  write  a  line  on, 
to  put  in  the  bundle  ?"  said  Robert. 

And,  taking  out  his  stylographic  pen,  he  wrote 
on  the  card :  "  A  token  of  my  true  love."    As 


248  The  Captains  Bargain. 

he  wrote,  the  observant  shop-girl  wondered  how 
it  was  that  the  hand  from  which  Robert  had 
pulled  the  fine  kid  glove  was  evidently  the  hand 
of  a  boy  that  had  worked  hard,  and  she  also 
wondered  how  it  was  that  the  relatives  of  a  boy 
with  so  fine  a  watch,  so  nice  a  suit,  and  so  ele- 
gant a  stylographic  pen,  should  be  poor  enough 
to  need  and  use  the  simple  gifts  that  the  lad  had 
just  purchased.  But  girls  who  clerk  in  stores 
see  many  curious  things. 

After  the  shopping  was  done,  Robert  bade  his 
fair  helper  good-bye,  and  walked  off  to  Fair- 
mount  Park.  He  had  not  left  himself  a  cent  for 
car-fare,  nor  to  buy  a  biscuit  for  lunch.  But  in 
thinking  how  pleased  Eliza  and  the  others  would 
be  with  their  presents,  he  forgot  to  be  tired  or 
hungry.  He  sat  on  one  of  the  Park  benches 
and  counted  up  the  years  before  he  should  be 
done  with  school,  and  be  a  man,  and  be  earning 
money  for  himself,  which  money  he  should 
share  with  those  who  had  shared  their  little  all 
with  him.  Would  old  Mr.  Wick  live  until  then, 
rnd  the  mortgage  on  the  mill  escape  foreclosure  ? 
He  realized  his  father's  hostility  to  the  Aliens; 
i^.e  wished  he  could  make  them  friends,  but  he 
felt  that  at  present  the  less  he  said  about  them 
ihe  better.  It  was  a  long  walk  back  to  the 
hotel.     He  happened  to  reach  there  just  as  his 


"A    Token  of  my    True  Love."         249 

father  returned  in  the  carriage.  As  they  went 
up  to  their  room  to  make  ready  for  dinner,  Mr. 
Murray  said : 

"  You  look  tired,  my  son.  Where  have  yon 
been?" 

"To  Fairmount  Park." 

"  But  you  never  walked  home  from  there  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  I — had  spent  all  my  money,"  said 
Robert,  embarrassed. 

"  Did  you  get  your  dinner  there?"  asked  his 
father.     "  No  ?     Why  not  ?  " 

"  I  had  spent  all  my  money,  sir.  I  am  afraid 
you  will  think  me  a  spendthrift  now.  The  other 
day  you  thought  I  was  going  to  be  a  miser," 
and  Robert  laughed  in  a  hesitant  fashion. 

"  I  gave  you  twelve  dollars  this  morning," 
said  his  father.  "  I  hope,  my  dear  boy,  you  have 
not  fallen  in  with  sharpers.  However,  whatever 
it  is,  I  beg  that  you  will  not  fear  to  speak  out, 
and  say  just  what  you  have  done  with  it." 

"  I  went  up  to  the  store,  sir,  and  I  spent 
eleven  dollars  and  a  half  in  buying  presents,  and 
fifty  cents  for  sending  them.  I  got  my  mother 
and  Pink  and  the  little  one  dresses ;  and  hand- 
kerchiefs and  ties  and  so  on  for  the  rest.  I  en- 
joyed it  very  much.  A  very  nice  girl-clerk 
helped,  me  to  buy  the  things.  I  hope  you  are 
not  angry  with  me,  but  I  could  not  keep  money 


250  The  Captains  Bargain. 

in  my  purse  and  not  send  a  present  to  them, 
when  I  have  so  very  much  and  they  have  so 
little,  and  they  have  always  shared  and  shared 
alike  with  me."  Robert's  big  brown  eyes  were 
fixed  on  his  father,  with  that  steadfast  look 
which  Mr.  Murray  knew  so  well. 

"  Of  course  I  am  not  angry,"  said  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, coldly.  "  You  can  do  as  you  please  with 
your  own.  And,"  he  added  bitterly,  "  I  fancy 
they  will  be  ready  to  take  whatever  you  give 
them." 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Robert,  quick  to  catch  the 
tone  of  imputation  of  greed  ;  "  oh,  no.  They 
are  very  independent.  They  will  not  send  me 
back  my  presents,  because  they  will  know  that 
would  hurt  my  feelings,  but  they  would  not  take 
money  from  me,  and  they  would  not  let  me  keep 
on  sending  presents.  They  would  feel  that  the 
money  was  yours,  not  mine." 

"Well,  well,  son,  they  have  a  vigorous  de- 
fender," said  Mr.  Murray,  laying  his  arm  over 
Robert's  shoulder.  "  Come  to  dinner.  You 
must  be  half  dead  with  fatigue  and  hunger. 
Hereafter,  never  spend  your  last  cent.  Remem- 
ber that." 

Mr.  Murray  could  not  feel  irritated  long  that 
evening.  He  was  in  a  very  happy  mood.  The 
report  of  the  doctor  had  been  far  better  than  his 


**A    Token  of  my   True  Love''         251 

fears.  He  had  no  chronic  disease.  A  long 
nervous  strain  had  worn  and  weakened  him,  but 
now  that  he  was  satisfied  and  happy,  with  proper 
care  there  was  no  reason  why  he  should  not  live 
for  the  next  twenty  years.  He  could  see  his 
boy  grow  up  to  manhood  !  He  could  hope  to 
see  him  prospering  in  business,  happily  married, 
his  family  about  him  !  His  heart  glowed  at  the 
thought  of  having  years  to  live  with  this  beloved 
son.  And  then  his  mind  was  relieved  about  the 
matter  of  the  will.  The  future  of  Robert  was 
secured.  He  had  arranged  all  for  him  with  care. 
He  had  seen  two  of  his  most  trusty  friends,  men 
of  tried  integrity,  and  he  had  obtained  their  con- 
sent to  be  appointed  Robert's  guardians.  Now, 
if  left  an  orphan,  Robert  would  not  go  back  to 
Lai's  Mountain  to  lavish  his  all  upon  the  Aliens. 
Until  he  was  twenty-four  years  old,  and  there- 
fore had  had  time  to  forget  his  early  friends,  the 
boy's  fortune  was  secure.  This  was  a  good  day's 
work.  Mr.  Murray  rubbed  his  hands,  ordered 
turtle  soup  and  roast  venison  for  himself  and 
Robert,  and  talked  cheerfully  through  the  meal. 
There  was  a  lecture  that  evening  on  India,  il- 
lustrated with  stereoscopic  views  ;  he  took  Rob- 
ert to  hear  and  see  it. 

"There,"  he  said,  as  they  walked  home,  when 
it  w^s  over,  "  when  you  have  finished  your  school- 


252  "  The  Captains  Bargain. 

days,  you  and  I  will  travel,  and  see  those  far  lands 
for  ourselves." 

When  they  were  back  in  their  room,  Mr. 
Murray  lay  on  the  sofa,  and  told  Robert  his 
plans. 

**  Robert,  I  will  give  you  this  first  year  in 
school,  to  decide  on  what  you  wish  to  be.  If 
you  choose  to  go  to  college,  in  two  years  you  will 
be  well  fitted.  If  you  prefer  the  Polytechnic, 
imd  the  Mining  Engineer's  course,  you  can  enter 
upon  it  next  year. 

**  I  mean  to  buy  a  lot  near  the  city  and  build 
a  house  and  furnish  it.  You  shall  furnish  your 
cwn  room  to  suit  yourself.  I  want  you  to  have 
some  place  to  call  home,  and  think  of  as  home. 
That  house  shall  be  headquarters.  We  will 
bring  there  the  treasures  we  collect.  You  can 
invite  your  boy-friends  there  for  vacations. 
We  shall  have  a  garden,  a  small  conservatory, 
a  stable,  a  carriage,  and  a  pair  of  riding-horses. 
And  at  school — wherever  you  are — at  college, 
at  the  Polytechnic,  you  will  work  very  hard  and 
not  distract  your  mind  with  other  things.  Tell 
me,  Robert,  do  you  like  these  plans  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Robert,  sincerely. 

What  boy  would  not  like  to  hear  of  a  plan 
for  a  room  furnished  to  his  own  taste — of  a  rid- 
ir.g-horse  always  at  his  service  ? 


**A    Token  of  my   True  Love''         253 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  be  without  a  business, 
a  regular  occupation,  an  aim  in  life,  Robert.  I 
have  money  enough  to  keep  you  without  labor. 
But  I  have  seen  enough  of  these  Golden  Youth 
who  do  nothing  but  spend  the  money  their  fa- 
thers have  earned  by  toil  and  care.  What  right, 
in  this  busy  world,  has  a  young  man,  full  of 
bodily  vigor  and  mental  power,  to  spend  his 
years  yachting,  dancing,  giving  dinners,  playing 
tennis  and  polo,  day  in  and  day  out,  and  riding 
forth  at  times  to  exhibit  before  the  ladies  his 
fashionable  clothes  and  his  horsemanship  ?  I  say 
that  such  a  life  is  contemptible  and  unmanly. 
As  the  French  say,  we  should  all  of  us  show  the 
raison  d'itre ;  that  is,  the  reason  for  our  exist- 
ence. A  man  has  no  right  to  live  merely  to  eat 
up  the  proceeds  of  other  men's  labor.  That  is 
the  curse  of  the  Old-World  system  of  hereditary 
aristocracy,  and  it  bids  likely  to  be  the  curse  of 
the  New  World  with  its  plutocracy.  Mind  you, 
my  lad,  I  have  worked  and  made  my  money.  I 
expect  you  to  work  and  make  money.  And  as 
the  money  rolls  up,  we  can  use  it  well.  I  like 
to  see  men  found  libraries  or  hospitals  ;  present 
public-gardens  or  picture-galleries  to  their  cities  ; 
help  on  all  great  philanthropic  enterprises.  It  is 
grand  to  have  enough  money  of  your  own  earn- 
ing in  your  hand,  to  be  able  to  respond  liberally 


254  The  Captains  Bargain. 

when  you  are  appealed  to  to  help  on  good  work. 
If  there  is  a  man  I  envy  it  is  Peabody,  who  has 
written  his  name  in  golden  letters  around  the 
civilized  world.  When  I  was  a  young  man  the 
five  letters  in  the  name  Dodge  represented  to 
me  a  man  who  was  never  deaf  when  a  cry  for 
help  was  lifted.  When  I  myself  was  giving 
way  to  sin, — when  I  was  suffering  untold  ago- 
nies because  the  penalty  of  my  sin  had  fallen 
upon  me, — I  honored  the  man  who  with  other 
men  was  battling  the  curse  under  the  power 
of  which  I  had  fallen.  Be  a  man,  my  son, — a 
good  man,  a  useful  man,  a  great  man, — such  a 
man  as  I  should  have  been,  but  was  not." 

Robert,  whether  he  would  or  not,  could  not 
fail  to  see  the  mingling  of  noble  and  foolish 
ambitions  in  his  father's  wishes  for  him.  It  oc- 
curred to  him  that  justice  should  first  be  served, 
and  justice  demanded  a  grateful  recognition  of 
the  kindness  of  Captain  'Zekiel  and  his  family. 
To  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  such  a  fam- 
ily and  pull  them  through  their  adversities 
seemed  to  Robert  as  good  a  work  as  could  be 
done,  and  if  his  father  was  inclined  to  love  tem- 
perance people  for  their  work's  sake,  where  was 
there  a  stauncher  little  temperance  woman  than 
Mistress  Eliza?  He  felt  inclined  to  put  these 
pertinent  propositions  to  Mr.  Murray,  but  ab* 


'*A    Token  of  my    True  Love.''         255 

stained,  remembering  that  the  same  Eliza  had 
carefully  taught  him  a  lesson,  now  nearly  out  of 
date,  but  none  the  less  valuable,  namely,  that 
young  people  are  not  particularly  commissioned 
to  criticise  their  elders.  The  day  of  right  feel- 
ing between  the  Superintendent  and  the  Cap- 
tain might  come  all  the  quicker  if  Robert  main- 
tained a  respectful  silence.  All  this  passed  in 
his  mind  while  his  father  was  talking,  and  he 
said  heartily : 

**  I  think  you  are  a  very  good  man,  father. 
When  a  person  has  done  wrong  and  is  sorry  for 
it,  and  does  wrong  no  more,  we  think  other  peo- 
ple should  not  be  throwing  up  the  past  to  them. 
God  does  not  cast  it  up  against  them,  for  I  re- 
member once  the  schoolmaster  gave  us  a  lesson 
on  that,  and  his  text  was,  '  His  sins  which  he 
hath  committed  shall  no  more  be  mentioned  unto 
him.'  And  so  I  think  we  should  not  be  bring- 
ing up  the  past  in  hard  words  against  ourselves. 
There  is  no  need  of  our  doing  what  God  would 
not  and  our  fellow-men  should  not,  is  there  ?" 

Mr.  Murray  smiled,  and  patted  Robert's  hand. 
"  You  are  a  great  comfort  to  me,  my  son."  Then 
added,  sadly,  "  But  my  sins  cost  us  your  mother." 

"  I  believe,"  said  Robert,  "  that  as  soon  as  my 
mother  got  to  heaven,  an  angel  was  sent  to  tell 
her  that  all  would  turn  out  right  for  you  and 


256  The  Captains  Bargain. 

me,  and  so  she  at  once  forgot  the  sorrow  she 
had  had,  and  has  been  perfectly  happy  ever  since. 
It  must  be  so,  you  know,  since  no  trouble  can 
get  into  heaven." 

Mr.  Murray  at  first  took  some  present  com- 
fort from  these  suggestions.  Then,  as  he  be- 
longed to  the  human  variety,  "  self-tormentor," 
he  began  to  think  that  Robert  was  such  a  wise, 
good  boy,  he  must  be  going  to  die  early.  While 
he  made  himself  miserable  over  that,  Robert 
suddenly  began  to  expound  to  him  certain  epi- 
sodes of  his  life,  wherein  he  had  thrashed  Jim 
Long,  and  quarrelled  with  Tom  Britt,  and  brought 
down  on  himself  the  wrath  of  the  schoolmaster 
by  painting  a  boy's  face  with  walnut  juice  ;  and 
again  by  putting  a  quantity  of  popping-corn 
under  the  open-work  top  of  the  school-room 
stove,  so  that  said  corn  suddenly  taking  to  pop- 
ping, flew  in  a  white  shower  over  all  the  school- 
room. These  recitals  revived  the  spirits  of  Mr. 
Murray,  who  realized  that  there  was  nothing 
alarmingly  angelic  in  his  progeny.  He  felt 
vexed  also,  as  in  these  stories  of  the  past  rang 
the  longing  for  the  "  home  "  at  the  mill,  and  the 
dear  ones  there.  It  is  one  of  our  human  traits 
to  dislike  those  whom  we  have  treated  un- 
justly. Mr.  Murray  had  been  grossly  unjust  to 
the  Aliens,  and  he  disliked  them  accordingly. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MASTERS    AND    GOVERNORS. 

Mr.  Murray  felt  as  if  the  doors  of  Paradise 
closed  against  him,  when  he  left  Robert  at 
boarding-school,  and  turned  away  to  go  alone  to 
his  hotel.  Still,  he  believed  he  was  acting  for 
Robert's  good,  and  he  counted  the  hours  from 
the  Monday  morning  until  he  should  allow  him- 
self to  go  on  Saturday  afternoon  to  see  his  son. 
Already  he  began  to  consider  what  he  should 
take  to  him.  The  master  had  explained  that 
novels  and  candy  were  tabooed,  as  well  as  extra 
pocket-money.  Mr.  Murray  concluded  that  he 
would  treat  Robert  and  the  school  to  grapes  and 
peaches. 

Meanwhile  Robert  was  introduced  to  the 
school-room,  and  vigorously  stared  at.  The  boys 
estimated  the  fineness  of  his  clothes  and  the 
appearance  of  his  watch.  Those  who  made 
dress  and  money  a  ground  of  friendship,  con- 
cluded to  be  on  intimate  terms  with  the  new 
boy. 

The  tutor   began  to  inquire   into   Robert's 

(257) 


258  The  Captains  Bargain. 

accomplishments.  Unluckily,  he  began  with 
French  and  Latin,  and  Robert  knew  not  a  word 
of  either.  Down  he  went  into  the  beginning- 
class,  where  the  boys  were  younger  and-  much 
smaller  than  himself.  As  this  class  were  also  in 
the  rudiments  of  geography,  arithmetic,  history, 
and  grammar,  Robert  was  very  unequally  placed, 
for  he  had  been  well  drilled  in  all  these  branches, 
and  in  them,  as  in  reading,  spelling,  and  penman- 
ship, scarcely  a  boy  in  the  school  was  equal  to 
him.  The  schoolmaster  in  the  little  red  school- 
house  had  done  his  work  well,  and  beside  these 
important  branches  of  education  had  given  Rob- 
ert and  his  fellow-pupils  a  fund  of  useful  general 
information.  Robert  was  disgusted  and  discour- 
aged to  find  himself  put  back  in  the  English 
branches,  to  a  place  which  he  had  passed  two 
years  before.  He  felt  that  the  tutor  and  the 
pupils  unjustly  undervalued  his  acquirements, 
but  he  did  not  understand  that  he  should  re- 
monstrate against  bis  unpleasant  position. 

"  Put  all  your  time  on  these  grammars,  until 
you  catch  up  with  the  class,"  said  the  tutor, 
handing  him  his  Latin  first  books. 

The  other  boys  in  beginning  had  had  ex- 
planations in  class,  and,  for  years,  had  heard 
other  boys  reciting  in  Latin.  Robert  had  had 
none  of  these  aids,  and  the  pages  looked  to  him 


Masters  and  Governors.  259 

a  senseless  and  hopeless  maze.  Oh,  what  a  hate- 
ful school  this  was  !  Oh,  to  be  back  at  the  red 
school-house  on  the  Mountain  !  Recess  came, 
and  the  boys  took  him  in  hand.  Their  exam- 
ination was  as  ruthless  and  unsatisfactory  as  that 
of  the  tutor. 

"  Can  you  play  cricket  ?  " 

"  No." 

-Base-ball?" 

"  No." 

"  Can  you  fence  ? " 

"  No." 

"  Have  you  been  drilled  in  gymnastics  ?  Can 
you  do  this  and  that  and  the  other,  that  these 
boys  are  doing  on  the  bars  and  rings  and  ropes  ?  " 

"  No."  Robert  had  not  been  initiated  into 
any  of  these  things. 

"  Gracious  goodness,  man  !  "  cried  the  young 
leader  of  the  school.  "  Where  have  you  lived  ? 
Have  you  been  brought  up  in  the  back-woods  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have,"  said  Robert,  promptly. 

"Didn't  you  go  to  school  ?"  exclaimed  sev- 
eral. 

"Yes.     Certainly." 

"  Then  why  are  you  not  on  better  ?  Did  you 
not  begin  Latin  ? " 

"  No.     They,  taught  no  Latin  in  my  school." 

"  I  wish  I'd  been  there,"  groaned  one  boy. 


26o  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  You're  in  for  it  here,"  said  another.  "  It  is 
notliing  but  cram,  cram,  cram  at  Latin  from 
week's  end  to  week's  end." 

Poor  Robert !  He  could  have  crammed  any- 
thing else  with  a  better  heart.  He  had  no 
natural  talent  for  languages,  and  his  present 
tutor  was  not  one  calculated  to  inspire  enthusi- 
asm for  a  study.  His  classmates  being  younger 
than  himself,  and  not  particularly  gifted,  Rob- 
ert found  it  easy  to  overtake  them  in  the  few 
lessons  by  which  they  were  in  advance  of  him. 
That  done,  the  regular  lessons  in  Latin  and 
French  occupied  but  a  little  time  each  day,  and 
the  lessons  in  arithmetic,  grammar,  history,  and 
geography  he  did  not  need  to  study  at  all,  as  his 
drill  on  them  had  been  thorough  in  the  red 
school-house.  Thus  left  to  idle  time,  Robeit 
would  fall  to  dreaming.  Oh,  beautiful  red  schoo'- 
house  on  the  mountain-side.  How  good  it  had 
been  to  be  there,  exchanging  dagger-glances  of 
wrath  and  challenge  with  his  enemy,  Jim  Long  ; 
striving,  in  generous  emulation,  with  Tom  Britt 
for  the  headship  of  the  classes ;  getting  peeps 
at  marvellous  worlds  through  the  master's  mi- 
croscope ;  dear  Pink  on  the  seat  by  his  side, 
sharing  his  blue  desk  all  the  years  of  their  school- 
life,  Pink's  yellow  head  bowed  over  the  same 
Reader  with  his  head  ;   Pink's  wide,  dismayed 


Masters  and  Governors.  261 

blue  eyes  turned  to  him  in  appeal  for  help  over 
difficult  problems,  for  arithmetic  was  Pink's 
terror  and  Robert's  forte.  How  delightful  had 
been  school-life  up  there  on  the  Mountain  !  In 
summer,  looking  through  open  door  or  window, 
you  could  see  red  or  gray  squirrels  whirling 
around  the  tree-trunks  ;  or  great,  splendid  wood- 
peckers drumming  for  food  ;  in  the  autumn,  the 
trees  in  red  and  gold,  made  garlands  all  around 
the  play-ground,  and  you  could  hear  chestnuts 
and  hickorynuts  rattle  down  among  the  wither- 
ed leaves  ;  in  winter,  how  whitely  lay  the  snows 
about  the  door,  and  what  fantastic  shapes  the 
trees  and  bushes  took  under  their  soft  mantles  ; 
and  then,  in  spring,  the  robins  and  bluebirds 
came  to  the  very  threshold,  or  window-seat,  and 
built  nests  in  plain  sight !  Robert's  longing  soul 
would  be  lost  in  such  dreams  as  these,  the 
splendid  appointments  of  his  present  "  First- 
class  Establishment  for  Young  Gentlemen " 
quite  forgotten,  until  the  sharp  rap,  rap,  rap  of 
the  tutor's  ruler  on  the  desk,  and  the  warning 
voice,  "  Robert  Murray  !  You  are  not  attend- 
ing to  your  lessons  !  "  would  bring  him  to  him- 
self.    But  what  lessons  had  he  to  attend  to  ? 

Robert  had  no  especial  talent  for  drawing  ; 
he  was  no  artist  in  embryo,  but  he  could  scrawl 
or  sketch  something  that  was  at  least  recogniza- 


262  The  Captains  Bargain. 

ble.  His  hand,  following  the  meanderings  of 
his  heart,  drew  inside  the  covers,  on  the  fly- 
leaves, all  along  the  margins  of  his  books,  mills 
and  water-wheels  ;  rows  of  beehives.  One-leg- 
ged Jerrys  climbed  up  along  the  right-hand 
margin  of  his  history  and  travelled  down  the  left- 
hand  margin,  and  marched  across  the  lower 
margins,  as  if  one-legged  Jerrys  were  the  sole 
heroes  of  the  historic  tales.  Over  the  pages 
of  his  copy-book,  in  and  out  among  maps  and 
Caucasians  and  Ethiopians  and  Malays,  rolled 
dripping  mill-wheels,  and  rose  trembling  little 
bridges  and  rude  picnic  camps.  The  barge  Fair- 
Weather  sailed  right  across  the  unimpeachable 
pages  of  the  spelling-book,  and  Bop's  rudely- 
cropped  head  and  square,  honest  countenance, 
looked  forth  among  examples  for  parsing  and 
graced  the  interstices  of  the  multiplication-table. 
Eliza,  Pink,  and  Captain  'Zekiel  did  not  appear 
in  these  tracings,  they  were  too  sacred  to  de- 
lineate, but  none  the  less  did  Robert  hug  their 
dear  images  in  his  heart. 

Mr.  Murray,  intensely  proud  of  his  son,  had 
boasted  of  him  much  to  the  Principal  of  the 
"  First-class  Establishment."  Too  much,  the 
Principal  thought.  He  believed  it  only  right  to 
lower  this  paternal  pride  a  little. 

"  The  boy  is  very  backward ;  he  is  in  class 


Masters  and  Governors.        '      263 

with  boys  two  years  younger,"  he  said  to  Mr. 
Murray. 

"  That  is  owing  to  his  unfortunate  lack  of  ad- 
vantages ;  he  will  soon  press  on  and  take  his 
proper  place." 

"  Indeed,  I  fear  not.  He  is  not  even  dili- 
gent ;  he  sits  and  dreams  and  idles  away  his 
time.  He  is  the  least  attentive  boy  in  school. 
He  seems  never  to  be  paying  attention  to  his 
books." 

Mr.  Murray,  much  dismayed,  implored  Rob- 
ert to  take  an  interest,  to  be  diligent,  to  get  on 
quickly. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do,"  said  Robert.  "  I 
know  all  my  lessons.     I  never  make  a  mistake." 

"  I  daresay  not.  Well,  Robert,  apply  your- 
self— apply  yourself.  You  must  make  up  for 
two  or  three  years  that  you  are  behind  the  rest." 

Robert,  however,  was  in  the  very  agonies  of 
home-sickness.  His  lonely  heartache  grew  upon 
him ;  he  could  not  distract  his  mind  from  his 
lost  home  and  friends ;  his  heart  hovered  over 
their  memory,  as  a  bird  hovers  over  her  nest- 
lings.    Neither  study  nor  sport  attracted  him. 

"  I  hope  my  son  is  giving  you  more  satisfac- 
tion," said  Mr.  Murray,  anxiously,  to  the  Prin- 
cipal. 

For  answer,  the  disgusted   Principal  spread 


264  The  Captains  Bargam. 

before  him  Robert's  books  "  with  original  illus- 
trations," none  of  them  belonging  to  the  text. 

"  That  is  the  way  he  spends  his  time  in  school ! 
I  never  saw  such  a  sight  in  my  life  as  those 
books !  How  can  a  boy  learn  from  books  scrawled 
up  in  that  fashion  !" 

Mr.  Murray  was  about  as  much  dismayed  at 
the  sight  of  these  "  free-hand  drawings  "  as  was 
the  Principal.  With  these  before  his  eyes  con- 
tinually, Robert  would  be  little  likely  to  forget 
Lai's  Mountain  and  the  Allen  mill. 

"  Get  him  a  new  set  of  books,  burn  these  up, 
and  let  him  keep  the  others  clean,"  decided  Mr. 
Murray. 

Therefore,  Robert  found  on  his  desk  a  com- 
plete new  set  of  books,  and  a  card  with  the 
legend  :  "  Robert  Murray,  having  ruined  one  set 
of  books  in  a  few  weeks,  is  provided  with  an- 
other set,  and  requested  not  to  scrawl  on  the 
margins." 

Letters  came  to  Robert  from  the  mill.  Now 
and  then  Captain  Allen  would  labor  at  a  note  to 
"his  dear  son,"  a  note  only  moderately  well 
spelled,  and  very  poorly  written.  Bop  wrote  a 
sheet  of  chronicles  of  nutting  expeditions,  and 
snow-fort  building  and  defending,  and  besieging. 
Bop's  letter  was  open  to  criticism.  Bop  was  not 
strong  in  English  grammar.  But  Eliza  and  Pink 


Masters  and  Governors,  265 

wrote  most  of  the  letters,  and  filled  them  with 
the  simple  chronicles  of  the  home,  and  the  neigh- 
borhood, and  the  burden  of  their  longing  for 
their  "  dearest  Robert."  These  letters  Robert 
seized  with  eagerness,  and  read  again  and  again. 

"  I  wonder  what  Pink  put  that  '  lee '  in  red 
ink,  over  the  top  of  her  letter  for,"  he  said,  ab- 
sently, one  day,  as,  sitting  on  his  desk,  during 
"  nooning,"  he  read  a  letter.  "  I  wonder  where 
Pink  got  the  red  ink." 

North,  the  boy  whom  he  liked  best,  was 
reading  a  letter  near  him. 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  Murray?  That 
Mec'?  Pink,  as  you  call  her,  didn't  do  that. 
Don't  you  know  anything,  boy  ?  The  Prex  put 
that  there  to  show  that  he  had  read  it." 

"  Read  my  letter  !  What  right  had  he  to  read 
my  letter?" 

"The  right  of  might,  and,  moreover,  the  right 
of  law.  It  is  a  rule  of  the  establishment ;  the 
Prex  sees  all  the  letters.  Haven't  you  noticed 
they  are  all  unsealed  ? " 

"  So  they  are.  I  was  so  glad  to  get  mine,  I 
never  noticed  it.  I  think  that  is  a  mean  rule. 
I  don't  like  my  letters  read." 

"  It's  not  pleasant,"  said  North  ;  "  but  after 
all,  there  is  some  reason  in  it.  I  have  known  of 
a  fearful  lot  of  trash  being  sent  into  school- 


266  The  Captai7ts  Bargain. 

mails,  where  they  were  not  looked  after.     I  sup- 
pose the  Prex  only  glances  at  them,  though." 

"  Lee — what  does  lee  mean  ?  "  said  Robert. 

"  Why,  man,  it's  a  supine.  You  are  dull ! 
Lego,  legera,  legi,  lectum — lectum,  read.  There, 
now,  that's  Latin." 

"  Lectum  ?  I  thought  it  meant  a  bed ;  it 
does  in  my  book." 

"  It  can  mean  more  than  one  thing,  can't  it  ? 
Don't  we  say  in  English  :  I  may  read,  and  I 
have  read  (red)  a  book." 

"  But  they  are  parts  of  the  same  verb,  you 
know." 

"  Well,  we  say  a  pair  of  shoes,  and  we  eat  a 
pear." 

"  But  they  are  spelled  diiferently." 

"  But,  boy,  we  say  you  peer  into  a  well,  and 
that  one  man  is  another  man's  peer.  Such  are 
some  of  the  beauties  of  the  English  language. 
The  Latin  has  similar  beauties,  as  you  will 
slowly  discover." 

"  Anyway,  I  am  sorry  that  Pink's  letters  are 
read.     Still,  if  it  is  a  rule,  I  can't  help  it." 

*'  Since  we  came  here  under  rules,  we  might 
as  well  abide  by  them  with  a  good  grace ;  it  is 
only  honorable  to  do  so,"  said  North.  "  But 
the  rules  are  easily  evaded.  I  often  think  laws 
seem  only  made  to  be  broken.    Half  of  the  boys 


Masters  and  Governors.  267 

get  letters,  privately,  through  that  stationer's 
little  shop  around  the  corner.  They  are  sent  to 
the  man  there,  for  the  boys.  There  is  no  rule 
to  hinder  a  fellow  buying  pens  or  paper,  and  his 
letters  are  slipped  into  his  pocket  meanwhile." 

"  But  I  think  that  looks  very  mean  of  the 
stationer.  He  should  let  the  Prex  run  his  school 
in  his  own  way.  He  should  not  help  the  boys 
to  break  rules." 

"  Bah  !  he  don't  care.  The  boys  pay  him  for 
it.  If  it  was  only  the  letters,  now  !  But  he 
sells  candy  by  the  pounds,  secretly  to  them,  and 
wine  and  beer.  He  keeps  bottles  of  those  things 
under  his  counter.  The  fellows  run  in  to  buy  a 
paper,  or  a  pencil,  and  swallow  a  drink.  One 
fellow  carried  off  •  three  bottles,  hidden  about 
him,  and  drank  them  at  night,  and  got  drunk ; 
and  we  did  have  work  to  keep  him  in  bed  in  the 
morning,  and  not  let  the  Tute  know  what  was  up." 

"  I  think  that  is  beastly,"  said  Robert,  full  of 
disgust. 

"  So  do  I.  But  there  is  scarcely  a  big  school 
where  there  is  not  near  it  some  place  to  sell 
drinks.  The  law  is  that  no  saloons  or  liquor- 
selling  places  are  to  be  near  school-houses.  I 
read  that  once  in  Boston,  two  saloons  were 
nearer  the  school- house  than  the  law  allowed. 
But  instead  of  ordering  the  liquor-places  away, 


268  The   Captains  Bargain. 

they  got  the  school-houses  condemned  and 
moved  the  schools." 

"  We  never  had  such  doings  where  I  came 
from,"  said  Robert.  "  I  should  think  this  whis- 
key-selling to  the  school-children  would  be  found 
out." 

"  It  is  not,  or  not  for  a  long  time.  The  boys 
make  a  point  of  honor  of  not  telling.  While 
they  are  acting  as  they  think  so  honorably,  to  a 
rascal  who  is  breaking  the  law,  they  are  letting 
their  schoolmates,  and  brothers,  and  so  on,  be 
ruined  with  whiskey.  These  places  sell  brandy 
in  candy  jugs  and  bottles  made  of  sugar ;  they 
keep  ale  and  beer  under  the  counter,  and  rum 
and  gin  and  wine  in  lemonade  bottles,  or  label- 
led '  lime  juice,'  or  '  fruit  syrup.'  Or,  they  have 
a  little  den  behind  the  shop,  where  the  boys  can 
slide  in  and  get  a  '  half-and-half,'  or  '  Tom  and 
Jerry,'  or  some  such.  There  are  dozens  of  city 
school-houses  fixed  out  just  that  way,  with  liquor 
sold  at  a  newspaper-stand,  or  a  lunch-stand,  that 
looks  as  if  it  had  only  cake  and  biscuits ;  or  at  a 
stationer's  shop.  Land !  I've  known  boys  to 
really  steal  dimes  from  their  mother's  purse,  or 
their  father's  cash-drawer,  to  buy  julep,  or  egg- 
nog,  or  sling  with  lemon  in  it." 

"  I  never  before  heard  of  such  things,"  cried 
Robert. 


Masters  and  Governors.  269 

*'  Oh,  well,  you're  from  the  country,"  said 
North  in  a  superior  manner.  "  Now,  some  of 
the  fellows  here  are  going  to  have  a  supper  after 
hours  to-night.  You  see,  they  smuggle  in  the 
things,  and,  when  all  the  house  is  asleep,  we  get 
up  and  spread  the  supper  on  one  of  the  beds, 
and  sit  around  in  our  night-shirts,  and  feast  like 
Sardanapalus.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  him, 
though  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  do  know  Sardanapalus, — knew  him 
long  ago.  I've  been  through  Ancient  and  Mod- 
ern three  times." 

"  Well,  that's  the  way  we  do  it.  To-night 
the  spread  is  to  be  turkey  stuffed  with  truffles, 
pickles,  Vienna-rolls,  mince-pie,  fruit-cake,  and 
some  other  things.  It  is  in  our  dormitory,  not  in 
yours.  I  don't  mind  taking  a  hand  in  it  myself. 
It's  great  fun  ;  only  I'm  out  of  this,  because  the 
fellows  have  got  champagne.  I  draw  a  line  at 
champagne.  I've  no  objection  to  sitting  on  the 
head-board  or  foot-board  of  the  bed  in  my  night- 
shirt and  eating  Strasburg  patties,  or  pickled 
olives,  or  calves'-foot  jelly,  or  any  of  the  rest, 
but  I  don't  believe  in  the  champagne.  I  prom- 
ised my  mother  I  wouldn't  touch  any  kind  of 
wine,  and  I'm  a  man  of  my  word." 

"  Well,  I've  signed  a  temperance  pledge,"  said 
Robert. 


270  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"Signed  a  pledge,  have  you?"  said  Cocker, 
one  of  the  boys,  coming  in  just  then.  "What 
did  you  do  that  for?" 

"  Because  my  father  wanted  me  to,  and  be- 
cause I  thought  I  ought  to,  and  because  I 
meant  to  do  it,  and  so  why  not  say  it,  and  be- 
cause I  believe  in  temperance." 

"Tuts  !  tuts  !     Ain't  you  rich,  Murray  ?" 

"No,  I  am  not.     I  haven't  any  money  at  all." 

"  Then  how  do  you  come  to  be  dressed  to 
kill,  and  have  a  watch,  and  a  writing-desk,  and 
a  dressing-case,  and  all  such  paraphernalia?" 

"  Because  my  father  is  rich  and  buys  things 
for  me." 

"  Well,  man,  isn't  that  all  the  same  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not.  A  person  is  rich  if  he  has 
money  that  he  has  earned,  or  if  he  has  money 
that  has  been  given  to  him  out  and  out — not 
because  some  of  his  friends  are  rich,"  replied 
Robert. 

"  What's  the  use  of  cutting-  and  drvinsr  that 
way,  boy  ?  You'll  grow  up  into  a  rich  young 
man,  and  will  enjoy  yourself,  and  go  to  and  give 
dinners,  balls,  suppers.  How  will  you  get  on 
tied  up  by  an  old-fogy  pledge  ?  Who  can  have 
a  dinner  without  wine  and  toasts  and  speeches, 
I  say?" 

"Then  1  won't  have  the  dinners.     It  is  not 


Masters  and  Governors.  271 

necessary  to  have  them,  but  I  must  keep  my 
pledge." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  temperance  people  have 
any  dinners,  or  suppers,  or  any  good  time, 
Cocker?"  asked  North. 

"No.  They  are  a  weakly,  dull,  sickly,  short- 
lived lot." 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!  Where  are  your  proofs?" 
cried  North. 

"  Once  I  knew  a  man  ninety  years  old,"  said 
Cocker,  "  and  he  told  me  that  he  had  had  a  glass 
of  rum  every  day  all  his  life,  so  that  proves  it  is 
healthy." 

"And  I  knew  a  man,"  said  Robert,  "  a  man 
eighty  years  old,  and  he  had  lost  both  of  his 
legs  in  a  railroad  accident  when  he  was  fifty, 
and  that  proves  that  it  is  healthy  to  lose  your 
legs  in  a  railroad  accident,  and  if  you  want  to 
live  to  be  eighty,  you  should  have  your  legs  cut 
off." 

All  the  boys  who  had  gathered  about  laughed. 

"  See  here,"  said  North,  "  I  never  saw  a  mer- 
rier, jollier  lot  of  men  together  than  a  lot  of 
ministers,  and  you'll  hardly  find  a  minister  that 
drinks.  My  father  is  president  of  an  insurance 
company,  and  they  won't  take  drinking-men 
risks.  And  the  rates  for  habitual  abstainers  are 
less  than  for  occasional  drinkers.     And  the  as- 


2/2  The  Captains  Bargain. 

surance  societies,  you  know,  have  got  it  all 
down  to  a  fine  point." 

"  And  I  know  this,"  said  Robert,  "  the  life  as- 
surance society  called  the  Sceptic,  in  London, 
found  that  in  twenty-four  years  the  average  of 
deaths  among  teetotalers  was  only  five  in  a  thou- 
sand yearly,  and  that  is  less  than  half  the  average 
of  those  who  are  not  total  abstainers.  So,  Cocker, 
you  are  all  out  about  the  temperance  people  be- 
ing short-lived  and  sickly.  Try  your  wits  on 
another  charge." 

Sometimes  Robert  would  forget  his  home- 
sickness and  talk  in  this  way,  or  frolic  heartily 
with  the  other  lads,  but  too  often  he  withdrew 
to  a  window-seat  or  a  corner  and  sat  alone,  long- 
ing for  Lai's  Mountain.  Nostalgia  had  seized 
on  him.  The  daily  walks  of  the  boys,  two  and 
two,  in  line,  a  tutor  at  each  end  of  the  proces- 
rion,  were  a  misery  to  Robert,  whose  exercise  had 
been  so  free  of  all  restraint  as  he  ranged  the  dear 
mountain  and  romped  about  the  mill. 

One  day  in  the  school  session  the  lads  in  a  class 
r.bove  Robert  had  a  particularly  hard  problem  in 
Measurement.     Three  failed  on  it  at  the  board. 

"  Is  there  any  boy  in  the  school  who  can  do 
!  his  problem  ?  "  asked  the  teacher,  intending  to 
[?;ive  the  algebraists  a  chance  to  revive  their 
arithmetical  practice. 


Masters  and  Governors.  273 

All  the  boys  looked  up,  Robert  among  the 
rest. 

"  I  can  do  it,"  said  Robert. 

"  You  !  Why,  it  is  way  at  the  end  of  the 
book." 

"  Yes.     But  I  have  done  it." 

"  Come  up,  and  try  it,"  said  the  teacher. 

Robert  went  up  to  the  board,  wrought  the 
example  out,  and  the  Principal  came  in  just  as 
he  was  explaining  the  problem  and  its  working 
in  admirable  style. 

"What,  Murray,  way  along  there  so  soon?" 
he  said. 

"  I  was  along  there  a  year  ago,"  said  Robert. 
"  I  went  all  through  that  arithmetic  and  re- 
viewed. I  worked  out  every  example  in  it  by 
myself." 

"Then  you  should  be  in  Algebra.  You  are 
very  wrongly  placed  in  that  class  in  Interest. 
What  other  books  have  you  been  through  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  through  all  I  am  studying  in 
now,  only  the  Latin  and  French.  I  was  in  a 
more  advanced  Grammar  than  the  one  we  use 
here.  And  I  have  been  through  the  High- 
school  Geography." 

"  Why  did  you  not  say  so,  and  not  be  put 
back  in  that  way?"  demanded  the  Principal. 

"No    one   asked    me.      I    was   told   to   go 


274  ^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

in  those  classes  because  I  did  not  know  any 
Latin." 

"  We  have  graded  on  the  Latin  generally,  but 
you  are  an  exception.  I  will  revise  your  classes 
to-day,  Murray." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

MR.  Murray's  card-houses  tumble  down. 

Great  was  Mr.  Murray's  joy  when  he  found 
that  Robert  belonged  in  a  higher  class,  and  was 
not  so  backward  in  his  studies  as  his  teacher  had 
supposed. 

"  I  knew  he  had  made  a  mistake,"  he  said. 
"  I  knew  my  boy  better  than  he  did.  People 
should  not  take  so  much  for  granted." 

But  Mr.  Murray  himself  had  been  at  the  root 
of  the  teacher's  error,  for  he  had  assured  him 
that  "  Robert  had  been  at  a  very  poor  school, 
where  they  taught  absolutely  nothing,  and  that 
he  was  far  behind  other  boys  of  his  age  in  all 
that  he  ought  to  know." 

*'  Now,  Robert,"  said  the  pleased  father, 
"  show  them  what  you  can  do.  Let  them  see 
how  they  have  underestimated  you.  I  wish  you 
would  try  and  take  one  of  the  prizes.  How 
proud  I  should  be  of  you  if  you  would  take  all 
three  !  Yo%know,  there  is  the  prize  for  good 
conduct,  one  for  greatest  improvement,  one  for 
highest  class  standing.     Each  is  a  gold  medal, 

(275)  i 


276  The  Captains  Bargain. 

or  its  worth,  twenty  dollars.  Of  course  you 
would  not  take  the  money  instead  of  the  medal, 
but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  give 
you  twenty  dollars  for  each  medal  that  you  win." 
An  idea  here  entered  Robert's  mind.  If  he 
could  get  sixty  dollars,  and  save  his  ten  dollars 
a  month,  why  could  he  not  make  a  payment  of 
one  hundred  and  eighty  dollars  on  that  terrible 
mortgage  that  hung  over  the  mill  ?  If  Mr.  Wick 
\7ould  live  long  enough,  or  his  heir  should  prove 
merciful,  why,  in  five  or  six  years,  might  not 
Robert  free  the  dear  home  of  its  incumbrance  ? 
A  very  fury  of  money-earning  and  saving  seem- 
\  d  to  possess  the  boy  at  this  thought.  The 
.  lortgage  was  ever  before  his  eyes,  like  some 
.uge,  hideous  debt  of  his  own.  The  rich  man's 
:  on  was  burdened  by  poverty  and  cares  of  money 
.;3  sorely  as  any  poor  man's  son.  The  letters 
from  the  mill  contained  little  hints  unconscious- 
ly dropped,  and  spaces  where  Robert  read  dire 
poverty  between  the  lines.  "  Father  was  so 
worried.  Pink  wished  she  were  grown  up,  and 
knew  enough  to  teach  a  school.  She  could 
then  give  poor  father  all  her  salary."  It  "was  so 
good  of  Robert  to  send  them  those  dresses.  If 
he  had  not  they  could  have  had  none.  Now 
they  looked  as  well  at  church  as  other  folks." 
"  Poor  mother  seemed  low-spirited.     Pink  had 


Mr.  Murray's  Card-Houses  Fall.      lyy 

found  hercrying."  "  Mr.  Wick  had  had  another, 
attack  of  paralysis — a  slight  one — but  the  doc- 
tor said  the  third  would  carry  him  off." 

"  People  said  Mr.  Wick's  nephew  was  in  great 
want  of  ready  money,  and  was  all  the  time  look- 
ing up  purchasers  to  take  all  his  uncle's  property 
as  soon  as  the  old  man  should  die." 

Reading  such  news,  Robert  felt  as  if  he  could 
not  wait  for  the  slow  process  of  his  own  accu- 
mulations. He  ventured  to  ask  his  father  for  help. 

"  Father,  would  you  give  me  a  whole  thou- 
sand dollars?" 

"  That  depends  upon  how  you  would  use  it, 
son." 

"  I'd  buy  the  mortgage  on  our  mill,  and  give 
it  up  to  mother  and  father  Allen." 

"Then  I  certainly  should  not  give  you  money 
to  use  so." 

"  But,  father,  they  were  so  good  to  me — and 
you  used  to  like  them  so  much." 

"  That  was  before  I  knew  how  abominably 
they  were  treating  me.  Think,  Robert ;  for 
years  I  begged  Captain  Allen  to  give  you  up  to 
me.  I  told  him  all  my  miserable  story.  I  of- 
fered him  money ;  all  in  vain.  He  refused  to 
give  me  my  own  child." 

"  But,  father,  he  did  not  know  that  I  was 
your  own  child." 


278  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  He  kept  you  after  he  knew.  He  came  very 
near  keeping  you  altogether,  and  letting  me  go 
off  to  die  alone  of  a  heart-break.  He  would 
have  been  my  murderer.  I  remember  against 
him  my  month  of  heartache,  I  can  tell  you.  I 
will  do  nothing  for  him,  I  promise  you." 

This  was  on  a  Sunday  afternoon.  It  was  the 
Sunday  of  the  month  which  Robert  spent  with 
his  father.  They  had  been  at  church  in  the 
morning,  and  the  Scripture  read  had  been,  "  I 
forgave  thee  all  that  debt  because  thou  desirest 
me.  Shouldst  thou  not  have  had  compassion 
on  thy  fellow-servant,  even  as  I  had  pity  on 
thee  ? "  To  Robert  it  seemed  that  the  words 
fitted  this  case  exactly.  Oh  !  why  did  not  his 
father  so  apply  them  ?  He  dared  not  make  the 
application  himself,  but  he  said,  "  It  was  be- 
cause he  was  so  fond  of  me,  father." 

"  Yes,  so  fond  that  he  was  willing  to  keep 
you  in  patches,  sleeping  in  a  carpetless  room, 
working  along  with  that  one-legged  fellow,  in- 
stead of  putting  you  in  your  right  place  where 
you  could  have  whatever  you  liked.  A  queer 
kind  of  love,  that !  And,  Robert,  I  am  amazed 
at  you  that  you  do  not  resent  Captain  Allen's 
keeping  you  parted  so  long  from  your  own  fa- 
ther. It  is  your  duty  to  feel  angry  that  he 
caused  me  so  much  needless  sorrow.     I  wish 


Mr.  Murray  s  Card- Houses  Fall.      279 

you  would  never  speak  of  those  Aliens  to  me 
again." 

Poor  Robert  !  if  he  could  have  talked  of 
them,  could  have  seen  them  now  and  then  ; 
could  have  known  that  their  goodness  was  ap- 
preciated and  their  burdens  were  lifted,  he  could 
have  borne  his  separation  from  them  better. 

That  had  been  a  very  happy  life  at  the  mill. 
In  spite  of  poverty  it  had  been  a  life  of  love 
and  joy,  a  true  home-lfe — free,  genial,  innocent. 
Robert  longed  for  it,  as  the  exile  Switzer  longs 
for  his  mountains,  his  herds,  the  chalet  perilously 
hung  on  the  cliff's  side.  He  had  now  no  hope 
of  seeing  his  dear  family  until  he  should  be 
grown  up.  Oh,  weary  years  !  He  had  no  hope 
of  relieving  their  straits  but  by  the  slow  process 
of  his  own  savings.  He  took  up  the  burden, 
but  it  looked  a  long  and  hopeless  way  which  it 
must  be  carried.  And  if  he  tried  to  pay  the 
mortgage  he  could  not  educate  Pink.  He  began 
morbidly  to  measure  everything  by  the  money 
which  it  cost,  and  that  money  by  the  good  it 
might  do  to  the  Aliens.  On  Saturdays  his 
father  took  him  to  see  what  progress  was  made 
in  the  house  that  was  being  built  for  them  in 
West  Philadelphia.  As  Robert  saw  its  large 
proportions  and  expensive  work  he  counted  up 
how  many  times  it  might  have  paid  the  mill 


28o  The  Captains  Bargain. 

mortgage  and  built  a  good  house  for  his  dear, 
faithful  mother  Eliza,  and  he  took  but  little  sat- 
isfaction in  the  new  structure. 

As  his  father  had  assured  him  that  progress 
at  school  was  the  high-road  to  speedy  entrance 
into  business  and  money-making  on  his  own 
account,  as  the  three  prizes  represented  at  least 
sixty  of  the  dollars  which  he  wanted,  Robert 
entered  into  a  very  fury  of  application  to  his 
studies.  He  studied  early  and  late.  The  boys  call- 
ed him  a  "  prig,"  a  "  muff,"  and  all  manner  of 
names  because  he  refused  to  take  a  share  in  their 
sports.  Even  the  tutor  said,  "  Don't  overdo  this, 
Murray  ;  you  go  from  one  extreme  to  the  other." 

Then,  as  Robert  felt  that  he  must  save  every 
penny,  to  aid  in  averting  ruin  from  those  who 
had  saved  him  from  misery,  he  spent  nothing  on 
little  treats  and  gifts  as  the  other  boys  did ;  he 
refused  to  join  in  testimonials ;  he  put  nothing 
into  the  outstretched  palms  of  beggars;  he  took  no 
share  in  surreptitious  suppers  called  "spreads." 
The  fellows  called  him  a  "cad,"  a  "curmudg- 
eon," a  "  miser."  Robert  knew  that  he  was  at 
an  immense  disadvantage ;  generous  in  the  ex- 
treme, he  was  especially  mortified  and  grieved 
at  being  considered  selfish.  All  the  consolation 
he  had  was  in  adding  each  month  a  clean,  new 
ten-dollar  bill  to  his  hoard. 


Mr,  Murray  s  Card-Houses  Fall,      281 

Desperate  to  help  those  so  dear  to  him,  the 
boy  wrote  to  Deacon  Britt,  asking  if  he  would 
iK)t  buy  the  mill  mortgage,  and  take  on  it,  from 
Robert,  ten  dollars  a  month,  and  whatever  else 
he  could  pay.  He  asked  the  Deacon  to  keep  his 
letters  secret.  The  Deacon  replied  that  he  had 
not  money  in  hand  for  this  matter,  but  that  he 
would  look  out,  and  try  and  avert  the  fore- 
closure of  the  mortgage.  That  little  correspond- 
ence with  the  old  Deacon  was  Robert's  one  ven- 
ture through  the  secret  post-office  at  the  naughty 
stationer's. 

At  Christmas-time  Mr.  Murray  took  Robert  to 
Atlantic  City  for  a  fortnight,  to  see  the  ocean,  the 
great  hotels,  the  fine  cottages,  and  all  the  adjuncts 
of  the  huge,  bustling  summer-resort.  Still  the  Al- 
len preoccupation  was  over  Robert's  mind.  If 
turned  out  from  the  mill,  could  father  'Zekiel 
come  here,  and  be  a  fisherman,  or  sail  pleasure- 
boats  for  summer  parties?  Could  mother  Eliza 
come  here  and  keep  a  boarding-house?  He 
laid  all  manner  of  plans,  built  castles  in  the  air, 
and  dow^n  they  fell  at  the  breath  of  common- 
sense.  Father  Allen  knew  nothing  of  fishing, 
or  of  the  sea ;  mother  'Liza  had  no  money  to 
buy  furniture  for  a  cottage. 

While  Robert  strolled  on  the  beach  and  hope- 
lessly revolved  such  plans  as  this,  Mr.  Murray 


282  The  Captains  Bargain. 

walking  by  him,  too  happy  to  notice  the  lad's 
unnatural  silence  and  gloom,  built  castles  also. 
In  truth,  Mr.  Murray  knew  little  about  boys,  and 
Robert's  staid,  quiet  demeanor,  the  result  of 
grief  and  care,  only  made  him  a  more  orderly 
listener,  and  better  companion  for  his  father. 
Thus  Mr.  Murray  suspected  nothing  wrong. 
He  planned  and  planned  for  Robert's  almost 
heedless  ears. 

"  In  the  summer,  Robert,  we  will  make  a  trip 
North.  We  will  go  down  the  St.  Lawrence ; 
we  will  see  first  Niagara,  then  the  Thousand 
Islands,  then  Montreal  and  Quebec.  That  will 
be  a  trip  !     How  would  you  like  that,  my  boy  ?" 

"  Very  well,  father,  thank  you,"  said  Robert, 
indifferently. 

"  Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  some  other  place 
that  you  would  prefer.  Very  likely  the  boys 
at  school  have  told  you  of  some  of  their  vaca- 
tion trips." 

"No,  sir." 

"  If  there  is  any  place  you  would  prefer,  speak 
up,  my  son." 

"  Oh,  father  !  What  I  should  prefer  would 
be  to  go  to  Lai's  Mountain  for  vacation.  We 
could  go  to  your  nice  little  home  there.  Pink, 
and  Bop,  and  the  twins  could  come  and  see  us 
every  day.     I  could  run  in  and  out  of  the  mill, 


Mr.  Murray  s  Card-Houses  Fall.       283 

when  I  liked.  We  could  have  a  camp,  father, 
as  the  tourists  and  artists  did.  Oh,  I  should 
like  that." 

Robert   held  up  his   head ;    his   brown   eyes  ' 
flamed,  a  glow  lit  his  cheeks,  he  held  his  breath, 
waiting  for  his  father's  answer. 

Mr.  Murray  was  simply  provoked. 

"  I  certainly  shall  not  go  back  to  Lai's  Moun- 
tain !  We  have  both .  had  too  much  of  that 
place,  and  of  those  people.  It  is  time  you  were 
weaned  from  them,  Robert.  You  are  absolutely 
foolish  about  them.  I'm  ashamed  of  you  !  It 
is  proper  for  you  to  see  more  of  the  world.  If 
you  are  so  fond  of  the  woods,  boy,"  he  added, 
relenting  at  Robert's  miserable  face,  "we  will 
go  up  and  have  all  the  camp  you  like  in  the 
Adirondacks,  where  you  can  catch  salmon-trout 
and  shoot  venison." 

Robert  said  no  more.  He  hung  his  head,  and 
kicked  little  shells  out  of  the  shingle.  Life  of- 
fered him  nothing  worth  living  for,  except  to 
lift  the  mortgage  and  build  his  mother  a  white 
house.  But  that  was  an  undertaking  for  a  six- 
teen-year-old boy  !  Presently,  seeing  some  quite 
pretty  shells,  he  thought  Pink  would  like  them. 
Pink  had  almost  never  seen  shells.  So  he 
stuffed  his  pockets  with  the  best,  and  as  his  desk 
was  always  kept  supplied  with  postage-stamps, 


284  The  Captain  s  Bargain. 

he  packed  a  box  of  shells,  while  his  father  was 
napping  after  dinner,  and  sent  them  off  to  Pink. 
Not  that  he  wished  to  be  secret,  or  do  anything 
underhand  ;  if  it  had  come  into  question,  he 
would  have  freely  stated  what  had  become  of 
stamps  and  shells,  but  he  saw  that  his  father  was 
only  vexed  at  being  reminded  of  the  Aliens,  and 
that  iteration  of  their  claims  only  increased  his 
hostility.  Robert  wished  he  could  paint  pictures, 
or  write  stories,  or  sing  in  a  choir,  or  do  some- 
thing to  earn  money.  But  he  was  fully  con- 
scious of  being  no  genius — only  life's  most  ordi- 
nary paths  were  open  to  him.  By  no  lofty 
tumblings  could  he  reach  his  goal.  He  must 
just  plod.  He  was  glad  when  the  vacation  was 
over,  and  he  could  go  back  and  plod  again. 

All  this  was  very  unnatural  for  a  lad  of  Rob- 
ert's age  and  constitution.  He  had  been  full  of 
fun,  frolic,  given  to  vigorous  out-of-door  ex- 
ercise. His  childish  "  Let's  play  "  had  been  a 
part  of  his  buoyant  constitution.  Now  his  life 
was  all  work  and  worry  and  no  play,  and  it  be- 
gan to  tell  heavily  upon  him. 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Murray,"  said  the  proprietor  of 
the  hotel  where  Mr.  Murray  lived,  and  where 
Robert  spent  one  Sunday  a  month,  "  that 
school-life  does  not  suit  that  boy  of  yours.  He 
is  getting  very  thin." 


Mr,  Murray  s  Card-Houses  Fall.       285 

"  He  is  growing  fast,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

*'  And  he  is  pale — and  has  a  worried  look,  and 
great  dark  circles  under  his  eyes.  I  wonder  you 
don't  see  it.  He  is  a  very  different  boy  from 
what  he  was  when  you  brought  him  here  last 
fall.     School-life  doesn't  suit  him." 

Mr.  Murray,  the  next  Saturday,  took  Robert 
to  see  a  physician.  The  doctor  said  the  boy 
was  outgrowing  his  strength,  and  the  change 
from  country  to  school  and  city  life  had  pulled 
him  down.  He  ordered  cod-liver  oil  and  port 
wine. 

"  Port  trash,  you  mean,"  cried  Mr.  Murray, 
"  port  old  leather  and  logwood  and  wormy 
prunes,  and  drugs  ad  libitum.  There  is  not  a 
quart  of  true  Port  in  the  country,  not  a  quart 
leaves  Oporto,  doctor,  yet  we  Americans  say  we 
import  it,  and  we  drink  it  yearly  by  the  hogs- 
head !  Why  do  you  order  what  isn't  to  be  had, 
and  if  it  were  to  be  had  I  wouldn't  touch  it,  and 
Robert  should  not." 

The  doctor  smiled  at  his  irascible  patient.  He 
had  had  Mr.  Murray  to  deal  with  before.  But 
Mr.  Murray  was  rich,  and  riches  cover  a  multi- 
tude of  sins  and  hard  words.  As  Mr.  Murray 
would  none  of  the  port  wine,  the  doctor  said  : 

"  All  right,  give  him  an  emulsion  of  cod-liver 
oil,  and  as  you  won't  use  port,  use  iron  and 


286  The  Captains  Bargain. 

quinine,  that  will  tone  him  up.  Give  him  the 
iron  through  a  glass  tube,  so  as  not  to  spoil  those 
handsome  teeth." 

Mr.  Murray  took  Robert  a  long  drive  up  the 
Wissahickon,  and  bought  him  plentiful  cod-liver 
oil,  iron,  and  quinine. 

"  Port,"  he  growled,  "  port  wine,  indeed  !  a 
pretty  notion,  giving  that  poison  to  a  boy  to 
strengthen  him." 

And  also,  Mr.  Murray,  though  you  did  not 
know  it,  a  pretty  notion,  a  very  pretty  notion, 
to  give  a  boy  cod-liver  oil  and  iron  and  quinine 
to  heal  a  heart-break,  and  cure  him  of  home- 
sickness, and  chase  dark  care  away  that  sits  on 
his  shoulder,  croaking,  "  They  shared  all  with 
you.  They  gave  you  a  home ;  you  are  rich,  you 
have  more  than  all  you  need,  and  you  are  doing 
nothing  for  them,  and  they  are  to  be  turned  out 
of  the  home  you  shared,  the  only  home  you  ever 
knew,  and  which  you  loved  so  well." 

No  amount  of  cod-liver  oil  could  exorcise  this 
demon  of  care — no  doses  of  iron  and  quinine 
could  change  this  burthen  of  misery,  this 
dirge  of  the  fortunes  of  the  mill,  into  a  song 
of  joy.  Robert's  spirits  sank  lower  and  low- 
er in  spite  of  the  doctor's  nostrums.  Mr,  Mur- 
ray began  to  be  astonished  at  the  failure 
of  potions.     He  did  not  know  that  while  duly 


Mr.  Murray's  Card-Houses  Fall.       i^y 

taking  his  medicine,  his  son  was  losing  sleep  and 
appetite. 

The  letters  from  Lai's  Mountain  came  every 
week.  There  were  no  complaints  in  them,  but 
much  that  might  be  construed  into  ill  news  or 
forewarning  of  disaster.  Mr.  Wick  was  very 
low.  Mr.  Wick's  nephew  had  been  there  with 
a  man  valuing  property  to  look  at  the  mill  site. 
A  freshet  had  brought  some  logs  heavily  down 
stream  and  broken  a  great  piece  from  the  wheel. 
That  dear  old  wheel !  Robert  felt  as  if  he  had 
lost  a  piece  of  his  own  flesh  in  hearing  that  some 
of  its  sodden,  mossy  buckets  had  been  carried 
away.  W^hat  hours  had  he  stood  hand-in-han  J 
with  Pink  gazing  with  childish  wonder  at  that 
wheel's  ceaseless  revolutions,  and  laughing  with 
glee  at  the  rainbows  flashing  in  its  spray !. 

"  Father  did  not  know  whether  it  would  be 
worth  while  to  mend  the  wheel.  Whatever  hap- 
pened, mother  said  they  should  all  keep  to- 
gether." 

Then  in  February  came  worse  news.  Ther'e  had 
been  a  January  break-up,  and  blocks  of  ice  had 
come  down  the  creek,  as  on  the  occasion  of  that 
famous  voyage  when  Robert  was  captain  of  the 
Fair-  Weather  and  Pink  was  crew.  And  a  block 
of  ice  had  cut  a  fearful  hole  in  the  old  barge, — 
had  indeed  torn  a  great  piece  out  of  her  stern. 


288  The  Captains  Bargain. 

and  it  was  of  no  use  to  try  and  repair  it.  The 
barge  was  too  worn-out  for  repairs.  Besides, 
voyages  did  not  pay  now,  and  none  of  them  felt 
much  heart  for  taking  one  since  Robert  was 
gone.  Even  if  they  got  to  Philadelphia,  they 
might  not  be  allowed  to  see  Robert. 

However,  the  barge  Fair-  Weather  was  to  be 
broken  up  and  sold  for  fuel. 

"  The  dear  old  barge,  Robert,  in  which  we 
have  had  such  good  times.  I  think  we  all  cried 
to  see  it  finally  ruined." 

After  these  mournful,  loving,  despairing  let- 
ters, Robert  would  be  more  profoundly  sad, 
and,  while  no  longer  neglecting  his  books  to 
dream,  would  sit  listless  in  play-hours  and  fail 
to  eat  his  meals,  and  was  a  very  forlorn-looking 
lad  indeed. 

All  these  signs  of  trouble  did  the  Principal 
connect  with  the  letters  from  Lai's  Mountain. 
To  these  letters  he  objected  in  toto.  He  did 
not  believe  in  much  letter-writing  for  school- 
boys. A  weekly  letter  to  mother,  or  sister,  or 
father,  or  guardian,  was  enough  for  any  reason- 
able boy.  The  Lai's  Mountain  letters  were  not 
very  praiseworthy  or  improving  specimens  of 
English  literature.  The  Principal  resolved  that 
they  should  be  forbidden.  But  the  first  of  March 
brought  a  letter  longer  and  more  pitiful  than  all 


Mr.  Murray's  Card-Houses  Fall.       289 

the  rest.  The  Principal  glanced  at  the  six  close- 
ly-written pages  signed,  "  Your  loving  Pink." 
He  did  not  read  them  ;  they  were  not  worth  it ; 
but  Mr.  Murray  would  call  that  day,  and  he 
should  order  Robert  to  drop  the  Pink  corre- 
spondence. 

Robert  read  the  letter, — a  most  dreadful  let- 
ter it  seemed  to  him, — full  of  the  anguish  of 
Pink's  heart.     Old  Mr.  Wick  was  dead : 

"  Buried  yesterday,  and  Jonas  his  nephew  has 
been  here,  and  says  he  means  to  foreclose  the 
mortgage,  and  we  must  go  in  one  month.  At 
that  time  the  property  will  be  sold  to  a  man 
from  New  York,  who  means  to  build  a  summer 
hotel  here  on  the  mill  site.  He  is  going  to  tear 
the  dear  old  mill  down,  and  we  will  not  get  any 
money  for  it.  They  say  the  ground  will  only 
bring  the  value  of  the  mortgage.  We  shall  not 
have  a  penny,  and  we  do  not  know  where  we 
shall  go.  In  a  little  while  I  shall  not  know 
where  to  tell  you  to  direct  my  letters.  Oh,  I'm 
so  glad,  dear  Robert,  that  you  have  a  home, 
and  are  not  to  be  turned  out  as  we  are.  If  we  had 
any  furniture,  perhaps  we  could  go  to  Lacy  and 
take  boarders.  Father  says  maybe  we  should  get  a 
couple  of  rooms  from  the  Britts  and  let  him  go 
West  to  look  for  something.  But,  you  know, 
father  has  no  money  to  go  West,  and  he  cannot 


290  The  Captains  Bargain. 

get  along  without  mother.  Father  takes  after  me ; 
he  cannot  do  sums.  Since  you  have  been  away, 
Robert,  all  my  sums  have  been  wrong.  I  am  so 
sorry,  for  if  I  could  do  sums,  perhaps  I  could  be  a 
school-teacher  sometime,  and  earn  as  much  as  thir- 
ty dollars  a  month  to  give  to  poor,  dear  mother." 
This  was  the  heart-rending  epistle  which  Rob- 
ert read  and  re-read,  until  it  seemed  as  if  all  the 
letters  burned  in  red  fire.  While  he  read  it  the 
Principal  talked  to  Mr.  Murray. 

"It  is  true,  Robert  is  not  looking  well.  I 
think  he  will  never  feel  or  look  well  as  long  as 
he  keeps  up  his  correspondence  with  those  Allen 
people.  He  is  perceptibly  more  listless  and 
moody  after  every  letter.  Really,  Mr.  Murray, 
you  should  forbid  the  correspondence." 

"  It  would  make  the  poor  boy  so  unhappy." 
"  Only  for  a  little  while.  He  would  soon  for- 
get. Boys  always  do.  Now  his  mind  is  dis- 
tracted and  his  attention  diverted  by  those  let- 
ters all  the  time.  Next  thing,  he  will  fancy 
himself  in  love  with  this  Pink.  I  assure  you, 
you  do  him  a  great  injury  when  you  let  him 
keep  this  thing  up.  In  school,  nothing  but 
school-ideas  should  be  tolerated." 

"Well,  perhaps  so ;  but  I  hate  to  grieve  Robert." 

"  He'll   be  over  it  in  a  week.     Take  him  to 

Washington  for  his  spring  holidays.    Show  him 


Mr.  Murray's  Card- Houses  Fall.      291 

the  Patent  Office,  the  Congressional  Library, 
the  Smithsonian, — ^you  can  make  it  as  improving 
as  a  fortnight  in  school." 

Mr.  Murray  suspected  that  this  might  not  be 
a  very  enlivening  holiday. 

"  The  longer  this  goes  on,  the  worse  and 
harder  it  will  be.  You  tell  me  you  want  to 
break  the  boy  away  from  this  family,  who  are 
not  advantageous  acquaintances.  Then  do  it 
promptly.  I  understand  boys,  and  I  advise  you 
for  your  son's  benefit.  Let  him  have  an  undi- 
vided mind  for  his  books." 

"Very  well.  I'll  speak  to  him  about  it  this 
afternoon." 

"I  will  send  for  him  to  come  to  you  pres- 
ently," said  the  Principal.  "  Meanwhile  I  wish 
to  tell  you " 

Here  the  Principal  was  called  out  to  see  a 
telegram  that  had  come  for  some  one  of  his  boys. 

Mr.  Murray  sat  dreading  his  interview  with 
Robert.  How  could  he  forbid  the  letters  on 
which  Robert's  heart  was  so  set  ? 

Suddenly  the  door  was  flung  open  almost 
against  him  as  he  sat. 

"  Mr.  Mason  !  Mr.  Mason  ! "  cried  the  excited 
voice  of  the  tutor,  "will  you  telephone  for  a 
doctor  for  young  Murray  ?  He  is  in  an  awful 
way.     Quick,  sir  !  I  fear  he  is  dying." 


CHAPTER  XVIII.  . 

BETWEEN    LIFE    AND    DEATH. 

By  this  time  the  young  tutor,  pale  and  at  his 
wits'  end,  had  got  fairly  into  the  room  and  saw 
— not  Mr.  Mason,  the  Principal — but  the  father 
of  "young  Murray." 

Mr.  Murray  rose  up  from  his  chair  behind 
the  door.  His  teeth  chattered,  his  body  shook 
as  with  ague,  a  cold  sweat  poured  over  his  face. 
He  could  not  utter  a  word,  but,  with  eyes  wide 
and  full  of  agony,  glared  at  the  frightened  tutor, 
who  had  just  said  that  Robert  was  dying. 

"  Are  you  there,  sir  ?  Come,  come  to  Rob- 
ert !  Where  is  Mr.  Mason  ?  We  must  have  a 
doctor.  This  way,  sir.  The  fellows  are  carry- 
ing Robert  to  the  infirmary." 

The  tutor  had  lost  all  his  presence  of  mind. 

He  dashed  back  into  the  hall  and  Mr.  Murray 

followed  him.     Ascending  the  stairs,  he  saw  six 

of  the  largest  pupils  carrying  an  inert  form — 

the  form  of  his  son.     He  saw  the  boy's  hands 

dangling  lifeless, — and  what  a  dead  weight  he 

was  on  his  comrades'  young  arms ! 
(292) 


Between  Life  and  Death,  293 

"There's  poor  Murray's  father,"  said  North, 

Already  it  was  "  poor  Murray  "  ! 

The  tutor  had  rushed  off  to  seek  the  Princi- 
pal, and  Mr.  Murray,  dazed  with  misery,  climbed 
the  stairs  after  those  who  carried  his  son.  The 
boys  went  on  and  on,  up  to  the  infirmary  in  the 
fourth  story. 

It  was  a  large,  light,  sunny,  well-aired,  silent, 
beautiful  room,  with  great,  soft,  invalid  chairs  and 
two  white  beds.  On  one  of  these  beds  the  boys 
laid  Robert,  and  began,  under  North's  direc- 
tion, to  get  off  his  shoes,  coat,  and  necktie. 
Mr.  Murray  bent  over  him,  too  distracted  to  aid 
in  undressing  him. 

Robert's  face  was  pallid ;  his  eyelids,  half 
closed,  showed  that  the  eyes  were  set  and  rolled 
upward  ;  his  beautiful,  curly,  dark  hair  was  damp 
with  a  cold  sweat.  Mr.  Murray  wondered  to 
see  how  thin  and  white  and  wan  the  lately  ro- 
bust boy  had  become.  How  wonderfully  like 
his  poor,  dead  mother  he  looked  as  she  had  been 
in  her  last  illness  and  in  her  coffin  !  He  could 
do  nothing  but  clasp  and  stroke  Robert's  un- 
conscious head  and  call  him  : 

"  Robert !  Robert !  My  dear  son  !  Robert, 
speak  to  me  ! " 

"  Robert's  governor  takes  it  uncommon  hard, 
don't  he  ?  "  whispered  one  lad  to  another,  in  the 


2^4  ^^^  Captains  Bargain. 

corner  of  the  infirmary.  "  Looks  just  as  if  he 
was  going  to  die,  don't  he,  poor  chap  !" 

Up  came  tutor  and  Principal  and  a  doctor. 
The  doctor  was  a  very  young  man,  and  Mr. 
Murray  eyed  him  with  suspicion,  as  he  drew  near 
the  bed,  in  which  the  boys,  aided  by  the  matron, 
had  now  placed  Robert. 

"  Doctor  Lee,  Mr.  Murray,"  said  the  Princi- 
pal. "  He  is  attending  a  cousin  of  his,  here  in 
the  next  room,  young  Morgan,  who  has  a  slight 
attack  of  lung  fever.  I  found  Doctor  Lee  at 
the  door,  just  coming  to  see  Morgan,  and  I 
brought  him  to  Robert  at  once.  We  can 
send  for  your  own  doctor  presently,  if  you  pre- 
fer." 

Mr.  Murray  stepped  back  a  little,  making  way 
for  Doctor  Lee,  who  began  to  examine  his 
patient. 

"  He  seems  very  much  prostrated.  Nervous 
system  quite  run  down  ;  his  pulse  is  very  weak 
and  wiry.  Brain  fever.  How  was  he  taken  ? 
Did  anything  happen  ?" 

"  We  were  reading  our  letters,"  said  North. 
"  Murray  read  his  three  times.  I  noticed  him, 
he  looked  queer,  and  all  at  once  began  to  cry 
out,  not  words,  but  queer  little  shrieks,  and  roll 
his  eyes,  and  then,  all  in  a  minute,  he  fell  over 
against  the  desk.     It  was  something  about  his 


Between  Life  and  Death.  2^ 

letter,  I  think.  See,  here  is  his  letter  in  his  hand 
now — all  crumpled  up." 

•'  I  told  you  so,"  said  the  Principal,  taking 
Pink's  melancholy  pages  from  Robert's  unre- 
sisting hand,  and  giving  them  to  Mr.  Murray. 

"  The  boy  has  evidently  got  into  a  very  low 
state,  and  had  a  nervous  shock  of  some  kind.  I 
saw  a  case  just  like  this,  when  I  was  a  school- 
boy,— all  came  from  intense  home-sickness  and 
sudden  news  of  a  sister's  death.  It  was  that  case 
first  turned  my  attention  to  the  study  of  medi- 
cine. Get  me  these  things  which  I  have  written 
down  at  once,  please,  Mr.  Mason.  Have  you 
an  ice-bag?  Ice?  Clear  the  room,  have  those 
curtains  drawn.  This  side  of  the  house  must  be 
kept  very  quiet.  Is  this  the  young  gentleman's 
father  ?  Do  not  despair,  sir.  Your  son  is  young, 
and  seems  to  have  a  very  fine  physique.  We 
shall  pull  him  through,  I  hope." 

Only  hope — when  this  distracted  man  wanted 
certainty,  assurance  !  It  had  never  once  entered 
into  Mr.  Murray's  mind  that  his  son  might  die. 
He  had  lost  him  for  years,  and  suffered  horrible 
misery.  He  had  found  him  ;  he  expected  to 
keep  him  forever.  He  should  not  bury  Rob- 
ert,— Robert,  a  man  of  middle  age,  should  bury 
him  ;  and  here  was  this  treasured  boy,  lying  near 
to  death.     The  young  doctor  seemed  to  under- 


296  The  Captains  Bargain. 

stand  the  case,  and  to  be  very  earnest  and  sym- 
pathetic ;  he  toiled  over  his  patient ;  had  a  hos- 
pital nurse  sent  for ;  praised  Robert's  beauty ; 
encourag^ed  poor  Mr.  Murray. 

Mr.  Murray  could  not  be  persuaded  to  leave 
Robert's  bed  for  a  second.  He  drank  a  cup  of 
tea  that  was  brought  him,  and  sat  by  the  bed  to 
share  the  watch  of  the  nurse.  Robert  moaned, 
tossed,  muttered.  During  the  night,  Mr.  Mur- 
ray thought  of  the  letter  which  had  been  given 
to  him.  He  would  see  what  it  was  that  had  so 
disastrously  affected  Robert.  He  went  into  the 
hall,  and  read  it  by  the  gas.  The  simple  letter 
filled  him  with  strange  pity  and  contrition  ;  no 
wonder  that  Robert  had  felt  nearly  frantic  over 
1  his,  when  he  loved  them  so  !  Early  in  the 
morning  Mr.  Murray  went  to  the  bed-room 
which  Mr.  Mason  put  ^t  his  service  and  there 
lie  had  Robert's  things  brought,  and  instead  of 
lying  down  to  rest,  looked  over  his  boy's  treas- 
ures. There  were  the  other  letters  from  the 
mill.  Mr.  Murray,  as  he  read  them,  could  trace 
I  he  progress  of  Robert's  distress.  And  there, 
v.'orse  than  all,  was  a  little  journal  or  book, 
where  Robert  had  solaced  himself  by  wTiting 
tiown  what  he  wanted  to  do  for  his  dear  "  fa- 
iher,  mother.  Pink,  and  the  rest," — how  much 
it  would  cost,  how  long  it  would  take  him  to 


Between  Life  and  Death.  297 

save  up  the  money.  There  were  notes  of  boy- 
ish impossible  plans  for  getting  more  money, 
and  other  notes  telling  how  much  he  owed  those 
who  had  been  all  the  world  to  him.  There  were 
words  also  of  regret  because  the  "  dear  father 
who  was  so  kind  to  him  would  not  be  friends 
with  those  whom  he  loved  best  in  all  the  world." 
These  things  cut  Mr.  Murray  to  the  heart.  The 
sorrow  of  poor  Robert  was  revealed  to  him,  and 
his  own  conduct  to  the  Aliens  stood  before  him 
in  all  the  baseness  of  its  ingratitude.  He  was 
amazed  at  himself.  Should  he  now  lose  his  son 
by  the  judgment  of  God  ? 

All  that  day  and  night  as  Robert  tossed  and 
raved,  Mr.  Murray  more  and  more  upbraided  him- 
self for  his  ingratitude.  He  heard  Robert  in  his 
delirium  calling  on  "father,"  when  'father'  meant 
Captain  'Zekiel,  but  now  he  was  not  angry — on- 
ly pitiful.     But  Robert's  chief  cry  was  for  Eliza. 

"  Mother,  why  don't  you  come  to  me  ?  Can't 
you  stop  my  headache  ?  Take  hold  of  my  head 
as  you  used  to  do.  Don't  you  care  for  me  any 
more  because  I  don't  belong  to  you  ?  Are  you 
all  dead  ?  Have  you  gone  away  and  starved  ? 
Have  they  put  you  all  in  the  poorhouse  ?  Pink, 
why  don't  you  sing  to  me  ?  If  you'd  sing  to  me, 
I  could  go  to  sleep.  Pink,  sing,  and  make  my 
headache  stop.     Mother !  mother ! " 


298  The  Captain's  Bargain, 

"Why  do  you  not  send  for  his  mother?" 
said  Dr.  Lee.  "  A  mother  would  do  him  more 
good  than  all  the  nurses  and  doctors  put  to- 
gether. You  should  lose  no  time.  He  is  very 
ill,  and  grows  worse.  His  mother  should  be 
here." 

"  He  has  no  mother,"  said  Mr.  Mason. 

"  He  is  calling  for  his  adopted  mother,"  said 
Mr.  Murray. 

"  Has  he  lived  long  with  her?" 

"  Ever  since  he  can  remember,  until  the  last 
few  months,  and  Pink  is  her  little  daughter. 
He  is  very  fond  of  them." 

"  Such  affections  are  often  as  strong  as  ties  of 
blood,"  said  the  doctor.  "This  boy  is  evidently 
very  sensitive.  I  should  say  he  had  been  mourn- 
ing and  fretting  for  these  friends  until  he  has 
brought  on  this  sickness." 

"  He  is  just  like  his  own  mother,"  said  Mr. 
Murray.     "  She  died  of  grief  for  a  lost  child." 

"  Then  you  had  better  take  especial  care  of 
this  lad  now,  and  get  the  people  whom  he  is 
calling  after,  here.  It  is  not  in  humanity  to 
stand  such  tossing  and  raving  as  this  very  long. 
He  will  wear  himself  out.  He  grows  weaker. 
Anything  now  to  quiet  him." 

Mr.  Murray  hastened  out  and  sent  a  telegram 
to  Captain  Allen,  bidding  him  bring  Mrs.  Allen 


Between  Life  and  Death.  2^ 

and  Pink  at  once,  as  Robert  was  dangerously  ill. 
He  also  sent  a  money-order  telegram  for  fifty 
dollars,  so  that  there  should  be  no  delay. 

The  rest  of  the  afternoon  and  all  the  night, 
getting  only  brief  snatches  of  sleep,  as  Robert 
fell  into  transient  states  of  stupor,  did  Mr.  Mur- 
ray watch  by  his  son.  He  had  plenty  of  time 
for  repenting ;  plenty  of  time  to  think  what  he 
might  have  done,  and  to  plan  what  he  would  do 
if  God  should  restore  his  boy.  How  he  recalled 
the  piteous  pleading  in  Robert's  brown  eyes  as 
he  begged  to  go  to  Lai's  Mountain  for  the  sum- 
mer. A  "  yes "  then,  the  hope  of  that  return, 
might  have  saved  all  this.  Then,  too,  Robert 
had  asked  so  wistfully  for  money  to  lift  that 
mortgage,  which  seemed  to  rest  as  heavily  on 
his  young  heart  as  on  the  Allen  mill,  and  how 
harshly  he  had  been  refused !  Mr.  Murray 
seemed  to  himself  a  monster. 

But  as  the  gray,  March  morning  dawned, 
Robert's  heart-breaking  cries,  "  Mother,  mother, 
come  help  me  ! "  were  suddenly  quieted,  for  the 
door  opened  and  softly  across  the  room  came 
Eliza  Allen.  She  knelt  on  a  stool  by  Robert's 
bed  and  took  his  burning  head  in  her  arms  and 
stroked  and  soothed  his  forehead  with  those 
work-worn  hands,  which  were  yet  so  soft  and  so 
motherly  in  touch, 


300  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Robert  ceased  to  call,  "  Father,  father,  I  am 
falling  !  Hold  me  !  the  mill  is  whirling  about  \ 
It  is  going  over  the  bank ! "  for  Captain  Allen 
t-ook  in  his  strong  grasp  the  gesticulating,  dry 
hands,  and  his  genial,  firm  voice  said  : 

"  Here  I  am,  my  son.  We  are  all  right.  The 
mill  stands  firm,  Robert." 

And  there  was  no  longer  need  for  the  sick 
l)Oy  to  implore,  "  Pink,  sing.  Why  don't  you 
sing  to  me?  Pink,  you  sing  just  like  a  bird,'* 
for  Pink  sat  on  the  other  side  of  the  bed  and 
put  her  little  hand  on  Robert's  thin  cheek,  and 
in  her  fresh  voice,  untrained  but  true  and  sweet, 
sang  the  simple  things  which  Robert  loved  to 
hear:  "Blue  Juniata,"  "Buy  a  Broom,"  "Oft 
ill  the  Stilly  Night,"  and  the  hymn  that  they  all 
had  sung  together  at  the  mill  on  Sunday  even- 
ings, "  O  Paradise,  O  Paradise." 

And  so,  soothed,  caressed,  sung  to,  feeling 
the  subtle  influence  of  their  presence  whom  he 
loved,  Robert  grew  quieter  and  sank  into  slum- 
ber. 

Mr.  Murray  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and 
watched  his  son,  as  he  lay  surrounded  and  min- 
istered to  by  that  family  of  whom  he  had  been 
so  strangely  jealous.  But  there  was  no  jealousy 
in  his  heart  now,  it  was  all  driven  out  by  a  ter- 
rible fear.     He  was  willing  to  share  Robert  now 


Between  Life  and  Death.  301 

with  all  the  world,  if  so  be  he  might  have  any 
part  at  all  of  him  left.  His  heart  blessed  those 
who  came  with  help,  and  possible  healing. 
Hereafter  he  would  never  be  able  to  do  enough 
for  them,  if  only  Robert  might  live.  And  the 
Aliens,  ministering  to  Robert,  seemed  to  have 
not  the  least  rancor  toward  the  poor  Superin- 
tendent, who  had  dragged  Robert  from  them  so 
furiously,  giving  them  no  word  of  thanks,  but 
calling  them  hard  names  instead.  Captain 
Allen  nodded  encourao^ement  to  Mr.  Murrav,  as 
Robert  fell  asleep.  Eliza  sent  glances  of  sym- 
pathy and  pity  to  the  white,  haggard,  unhappy 
parent.  Pink  tried  to  give  him  hopeful  smiles, 
while  tears  were  running  down  her  rosy,  dimpled 
cheeks.  At  that  instant,  far  from  saying  that 
Pink  had  red  hair,  and  was  not  a  pretty  girl, 
Mr.  Murray  was  ready  to  affirm  that  she  had 
locks  of  spun  gold  and  the  countenance  of  a 
cherub. 

The  Aliens  had  travelled  all  through  a  stormy 
March  night,  and  had  taken  no  food ;  yet,  as 
hour  followed  hour,  they  never  flinched  from 
their  post,  lest  Robert's  sleep  should  be  dis- 
turbed. Eliza  held  her  boy  still  in  seemingly 
tireless  arms ;  Captain  'Zekiel  stood  at  his  post 
with  the  constancy  of  a  caryatid  ;  Pink's  voice 
dropped  lower  and  lower  to  suit  the  needs  of 


302  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

slumber,  but  still  she  sang  on.  The  superseded 
hospital  nurse  remembered  their  necessities. 
She  brought  a  cup  of  beef-tea  and  held  it  to 
Eliza's  lips,  then  treated  the  Captain  to  coffee 
in  the  same  fashion,  and  then  Eliza's  voice  stole 
into  Pink's  low  song,  so  that  Pink  might  stop 
long  enough  to  have  something  to  eat.  And 
then  Pink  gently  left  her  place,  and  drew  a  big 
chair  to  just  the  spot  where  Mr.  Murray  could 
best  watch  Robert,  and  made  him  sit  down  there 
and  drink  some  coffee,  and  lean  back  his  head 
on  a  pillow,  and  have  his  tired  face  bathed  with 
cologne,  and  an  afghan  tucked  all  about  his 
knees  and  hands,  for  Pink  was  a  capital  little 
nurse,  and  then  she  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  Dear 
Mr.  Murray,  please  don't  look  so  miserable ;  I 
know  Robert  is  going  to  get  well.  See  how 
nicely  he  sleeps.  You  sleep  too,  please."  And 
so  she  went  back  to  her  place  and  her  singing, 
while  Mr.  Murray  thought  this  little  girl  in  the 
blue  and  black  plaid,  plainly-made  gown — poor 
Robert's  gift — was  certainly  the  most  delightful 
creature ;  why,  why  had  he  not  carried  her,  too, 
off  from  the  mill  when  he  took  Robert  ? 

It  was  noon  before  Robert  roused  and  moved, 
and  released  his  willing  prisoners.  Then  he  was 
not  in  his  senses,  and  seemed  to  recognize  no 
one,    but    his    cries    for    "father,"    "mother," 


Between  Life  and  Death.  303 

"  Pink,"  were  stilled.  He  recognized  their 
presence  in  so  far  as  that  he  would  not  let  the 
nurse  touch  him  or  feed  hirh,  but  yielded  calmly 
when  Eliza  bathed  his  face  and  arms,  combed 
his  hair,  and  gave  him  broth.  The  fury  of  his 
fever  and  restlessness  was  ended  ;  it  only  needed 
the  touch  of  Eliza's  hands,  or  a  few  notes  of 
Pink's  songs,  to  quiet  his  tossings  and  still  his 
mutterings.  The  nurse  had  only  to  wait  on 
those  whom  the  sick  tyrant  permitted  to  wait 
upon  him.  When  he  began  to  talk  about  Bop 
and  Jerry  and  the  mill,  Captain  'Zekiel  knew 
just  what  to  say  to  him.  Between  whiles,  in 
the  next  room,  the  Captain  passed  the  hours  en- 
couraging Mr.  Murray,  by  vowing  that  "  Rob- 
ert would  surely  get  well,  never  was  there  such 
a  master-hand  with  the  sick  as  'Liza  was."  And 
he  told  Mr.  Murray  tales  of  Robert's  childhood. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  did  the  Superintendent 
hear  the  true  story  of  how  the  Captain  had  found 
and  brought  home  his  Bargain.  All  the  little 
anecdotes  of  Robert's  childish  goodness,  cour- 
age, wit,  and  beauty  were  detailed  by  the  good 
Captain,  and  eagerly  heard  by  the  Superintend- 
ent. And  now  that  sorrow  and  fear  had  opened 
Mr.  Murray's  eyes,  he  learned  from  these  stones 
that  which  the  Captain  had  not  thought  of 
teaching, — the  depth  of  affection  existing  be- 


304  The  Captains  Bargain. 

tvveen  Robert  and  his  foster-parents,  and  all  the 
generous  love  and  self-denying  care  which  they 
had  lavished  upon  him.  He  told  himself  that 
he  had  been  a  demon  to  abuse  these  noble  peo- 
ple, and  to  give  them  hostility  instead  of  grati- 
tude. 

Finally  the  force  of  Robert's  fever  was  broken, 
but  now  he  lay  in  a  state  of  exhaustion,  near  to 
death,,  from  extreme  weakness. 

"We  must  builds  him  up,"  said  Dr.  Lee. 
"Get  the  best  old  bourbon  or  apple-whiskey 
and  give  it  to  him,  a  teaspoon  of  whiskey  in 
two  tablespoons  of  rich,  new  milk.  Begin 
with  it  once  in  five  hours,  then  get  to  once  in 
three." 

"  But,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "  I  don't 
want  to  give  my  son  any  kind  of  whiskey.  I 
don't  believe  in  it.  Is  there  not  something  else 
to  strengthen  him  ?  " 

"Why,  Mr.  Murray,  he  is  not  in  a  state  to 
know  what  he  is  taking.  You  can't  oultivate  a 
taste  in  him  now." 

"  But  I  don't  believe  in  alcohol  as  a  medicine." 

"  I  am  giving  you  the  best  I  know,  sir ;  I 
have  done  my  best  in  the  case  from  the  first," 
said  Dr.  Lee,  who  was  full  of  pride  at  his  suc- 
cessful treatment  of  Robert. 

The  great  doctor  from  the  city  had  come  out 


Between  Life  and  Death.  305 

and  approved  his  course,  and,  after  two  calls, 
had  left  the  case  with  him.  The  young  doctor 
was  elated.  Moreover,  he  was  one  of  those  who 
aiv'ocate  alcohol  as  a  medicine. 

'•  Doctor,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  earnestly,  "  I  feel 
deeply  about  this.  When  I  was  Robert's  age  I 
nearly  died  of  typhoid  fever,  and,  in  the  subse- 
quent prostration,  they  gave  me  brandy  and 
whiskey,  which  begot  a  taste  for  drink.  I  might 
far  better  have  died.  My  love  of  drink  cursed 
my  existence,  killed  my  wife,  nearly  destroyed 
my  child.  I  cannot  have  that  story  repeated  in 
Robert." 

"  Never  fear,  it  will  not  be.  It  was  a  most 
unusual  case,  I  should  say.  They  kept  up  the 
dose  too  long,  probably." 

"  Can  you  not  think  of  something  better  than 
the  whiskey  ?"  said  Mr.  Murray,  appealing  to  the 
nurse. 

"  I  never  interfere  with  the  physician  in 
charge,"  said  the  nurse. 

Mr.  Murray  looked  to  Eliza. 

"  What  do  you  say  ? " 

"  I  never  give  liquor  of  any  kind,"  said  Eliza, 
promptly.  "  I  do  not  think  it  right.  It  is 
against  my  temperance  principles." 

"Temperance  is  a  question  of  morals,  and 
should  not  be  dragged  into  the  domain  of  medi- 


3o6  The  Captain's  Bargain. 

cine,"  said  Dr.  Lee.  "  Those  who  know  noth- 
ing of  medicine  should  not  handicap  a  doctor 
with  either  whims  or  moral  principles,  but  let 
him  do  his  best.  Have  confidence  in  me,  Mr. 
Murray.  I  am  more  than  interested  in  your 
son." 

But  Eliza  drew  near  the  troubled  father  and 
said  in  his  ear  : 

"Oh,  Mr.  Murray,  don't  yield.  Remember 
Robert  is  your  son,  and  a  taste  that  was  in  you 
may  lie  in  him,  and  your  story  may  come  to  be 
his  story.  Oh,  do  be  firm.  I  know  there  must 
be  some  safer  treatment." 

"  If  you  have  no  confidence  in  me,  sir,"  began 
Dr.  Lee  in  a  vexed  tone, — "  if  you  question  my 
judgment " 

"  I  have  confidence  in  you — every  confidence ; 
but  I  beg  of  you,  doctor,  consult  your  reading, 
your  experience,  can  you  not  prescribe  some- 
thing else  ?" 

Dr.  Lee  was  angry. 

"  No,  I  cannot,"  he  said,  sharply. 

"  Claude,  you  can." 

The  voice  that  spoke  was  sweet,  but  imperi- 
ous. The  door  into  the  next  room  where  young 
Morgan  was,  was  open,  and  a  lady  stood  on  the 
threshold. 

"Claude,  how  often  have  you  and  I  fought 


Between  Life  and  Death.  307 

this  battle  !  You  know  that  I  will  not  allow 
you  to  give  Paul  alcohol.  You  know  I  have 
proved  to  you  again  and  again  that  alcohol  is 
not  needed  in  medical  practice." 

"  Aunt ! "  cried  Dr.  Lee,  between  rage  and 
respect. 

"  Yes,  aunt ;  and  a  very  nice  aunt  I  am,  young 
man,  and  one  for  you  to  be  truly  proud  of,  as  I 
know  you  are.  It  is  cruel  of  you  to  try  and 
force  this  father  to  give  to  his  son  a  dangerous 
poison.  You  are  young  and  inexperienced,  my 
good  Claude,  but  you  do  know  of  other  reme- 
dies than  alcohol  for  building  up  prostrated 
strength.  Did  I  not  bring  you  through  nerv- 
ous prostration  and  typhoid  fever  without  a  drop 
of  distilled  or  fermented  poison  ?  Do  you  not 
know  that  for  years  the  Temperance  Hospital 
of  London  has  had  the  lowest  hospital  death- 
rate  on  record,  and  there,  nothing  alcoholic  is 
used  ?  Why,  Claude,  will  you  insist  on  trying 
to  build  up  life  on  a  substructure  of  death?" 

"  Well,  aunt,  if  you  mean  to  take  this  case 
out  of  my  hands,  and  if  Mr.  Murray  wishes 
It 

"  My  dear  Claude,  we  neither  of  us  wish  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  We  want  you  to  drop  for  the 
nonce,  at  least,  your  crotchet  about  the  medic- 
inal virtues  of  alcohol  and  doctor  this  pretty  lad 


3o8  The  Captains  Bargain. 

on  temperance  lines.  You  know,  Claude,  you 
would  have  to  doctor  Paul  that  way." 

"  Do  me  the  favor,  doctor,"  pleaded  Mr. 
Murray. 

"  Well,  take  your  own  risk,"  said  the  doctor 
with  a  half  laugh.  "  When  my  aunt  enters  the 
lists — right  or  wrong — all  her  opponents  have 
to  fly.  There  !  have  that  prescription  made  up  ; 
and  as  for  diet,  since  my  aunt  and  Mrs.  Allen 
consider  themselves  so  well  able  to  dictate  and 
decide,  let  them  take  the  matter  in  hand.  But, 
Mr.  Murray,  if  Robert  sinks " 

Mr.  Murray  turned  pale. 

"  He  won't  sink,"  said  the  valiant  Mrs.  Mor- 
gan. 

"  It  will  not  be  my  fault  if  he  does,  remember." 

"  And  you  will  not  fail  to  claim  all  the  honors 
when  he  goes  out  bright  and  well,"  said  Mrs. 
Morgan.  "  My  dear  Claude,  if  Mr.  Murray  will 
allow  me  to  come  into  this  case  as  adviser  on 
diet,  I  mean  to  keep  an  exact  record  of  the 
kind,  amount,  and  preparation  of  all  the  food 
and  tonics  which  we  use,  so  that  you  will  have 
it  for  a  similar  case.  We  shall  remember  the 
pendulum-principle,  Claude,  and  not  stimulate 
way  up  one  hour  to  provoke  an  equal  rebound 
the  next  hour.  We  mean  to  have  a  steady  non- 
alcoholic rise." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

JUNE    SUNSHINE. 

Robert  travelled  slowly  up  the  ascent  from 
death  to  life  and  consciousness.  As  his  loss  of 
health  had  been  gradual,  in  slow  heart-sickness, 
so  his  restoration  was  tedious  and  protracted, 
but  it  was  sound  and  steady.  He  did  not  make 
a  gain  one  day  or  hour,  to  lose  it  the  next.  The 
nurse  went  away,  and  Mrs.  Allen,  Pink,  and 
Mrs.  Morgan  did  the  nursing.  Mr.  Murray  and 
Captain  'Zekiel  spent  the  time  walking  up  and 
down  the  school-grounds,  or  up  and  down  the 
road,  coming  in  every  hour  to  see  how  the  in- 
valid was.  The  two  men  were  in  strictest  amity. 
Mr.  Murray  had  forgiven  Captain  Allen  for 
keeping  his  son,  and  Captain  Allen  had  forgot- 
ten that  Mr.  Murray  had  called  him  "  a  villain, 
a  scoundrel,  a  thief."  They  went  together  to 
see  the  house  Mr.  Murray  was  building. 

"  If  Robert  had  died,  I  should  have  had  every- 
thing stop,  just  where  it  is ;  and  I  should  soon 
have  died  myself,"  said  the  Superintendent. 

"Keep  a  good  heart,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel, 

(309) 


3 TO  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Robert  will  not  die.  You  will  see  him  a  man 
in  no  time,  as  stout  and  as  strong  as  I  am." 

Finally  Robert  opened  his  eyes,  and  was  fully 
conscious.  The  mists  had  passed  from  his  brain. 
There  sat  Eliza  looking  at  him. 

"Mother!  Mother!"  he  cried,  holding  out 
both  his  wasted  hands  to  her,  his  eyes  full  of 
joy. 

"  Yes,  dear  boy,  here  I  am,"  said  Eliza,  kiss- 
ing him. 

Then  a  cloud  came  over  Robert's  face. 

"  Oh,  mother,  is  the  mortgage  foreclosed  ? 
Are  you  all  turned  out  of  our  home,  are  you  all 
scattered  ?  Has  poor  father  gone  West  ?  Is 
the  mill  torn  down  ? " 

"  No,  no,  my  boy,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  leaning 
over  him.  "  You  have  been  sick,  that  is  all,  and 
your  mother  came  to  nurse  you.  A  pretty  lad 
you  are,  to  make  us  all  this  trouble,  and  fetch 
her  from  home  to  look  after  you.  But,  cheer 
up  now,  for  she  will  stay  until  you  can  go  home 
with  her  to  Lai's  Mountain." 

"  Oh,  father,  do  you  mean  it  ?  Can  I  go  up 
there,  and  see  all  of  them  ?  But  the  mill — it  is 
to  be  torn  down — father  is  to  lose  the  mill — and 
the  barge  is  broken  up,  and  the  wheel  is  ruined 
by  the  ice,  and — and " 

"And  what  a  pack  of  nonsense  this  is  that 


yune  Sunshine.  3 1 1 

you  are  talking ! "  said  his  father,  cheerfully. 
"  Are  you  dreaming  still  ?  Captain  Allen  leave 
the  mill  !  No,  indeed  ;  why  should  he,  when 
he  owns  every  stick  and  timber  of  it,  and  all  the 
ground  it  stands  on  ?  The  barge  broken  up  ! 
Well,  it  is,  only  to  make  a  nice  new  one.  The 
wheel  ruined  !  Why,  the  mill  is  to  be  put  in 
splendid  order,  and  Captain  Allen  is  going  to 
build  a  house  as  soon  as  you  are  well  enough  to 
lay  the  corner-stone  for  him." 

"  But  the  mortgage,  father,  isn't  the  mortgage 
to  be  foreclosed  ?  Is  not  a  New  York  man  to 
have  the  mill?" 

"  Come,  come,  a  boy  of  your  age  should  know 
nothing  about  mortgages  !  The  mortgage — do 
you  mean  this  slip  of  paper?"  and  Mr.  Murray 
put  a  folded  paper  in  Robert's  hands — "  if  that 
is  your  nightmare,  my  dear  boy,  make  an  end  of 
it,  give  it  to  your  mother  here  to  light  the  fire 
with." 

Eliza  heard  as  if  dreaming.  Anxiety  for 
Robert  had  for  two  weeks  kept  in  the  back- 
ground of  her  thoughts  the  imminent  ruin  of 
her  home.  What  did  Mr.  Murray  mean  ? — was 
this  that  dreadful  mortgage  ? 

"  Or  let  Pink  have  it  for  curl-papers,"  said 
Mr.  Murray. 

"  Pink  doesn't  use  curl-papers.     Her  curls  are 


312  The  Captains  Bargain. 

natural,"  said  Robert,  laughing.  "  How  is  Pink  ? 
Oh,  I  wish  I  could  see  Pink." 

"  So  you  can,"  said  his  father.  "  She  will  be 
here  in  a  minute.  She  has  been  singing  to  you 
and  feeding  you  for  the  last  two  weeks." 

"  Is  Pink  here  too  ?  But  how  will  father  get 
on  if  Pink  and  mother  are  both  gone?"  cried 
Robert. 

"  He  could  not  get  on,  so  he  came  too.  You 
seem  to  be  a  very  important  young  man,  Robert. 
It  takes  a  whole  family  to  nurse  you.  I  see  Cap- 
tain Allen  and  Pink  coming  up  the  walk  now." 

"  But  who  is  at  the  mill  ?  Who  takes  care  of 
the  twins  ?  " 

"  Jerry  and  Bop  and  the  twins  are  keeping 
house  together,  and  the  twins  hav^e  promised  to 
be  very  good  if  you  would  only  get  well  and  go 
back  to  see  them,"  said  his  mother. 

Then  the  door  opened,  and  in  came  Pink  and 
the  big  Captain. 

"  Oh,  Robert  is  awake  and  knows  us  ! "  cried 
Pink,  hastening  to  him.  "  Robert,  are  you  bet- 
ter ?     Oh,  Robert,  I  am  so  glad  ! " 

"  I'll  be  well  in  no  time,  and  I'll  go  home 
with  you,  and  see  you  build  the  new  house 
and  a  new  barge  and  repair  the  mill.  Oh,  won't 
we  have  a  good  time ! "  said  Robert,  holding 
both  Captain  Allen's  hands. 


yune  Sunshine.  313 

The  Captain's  face  fell.  In  his  care  for  Rob- 
ert, he,  too,  had  put  the  home-troubles  out  of 
his  mind ;  but  now — in  two  weeks  or  less — 
they  must  go  from  their  home ;  his  hereditary 
mill  would  be  his  no  longer. 

"  There's  the  mortgage,  you  know.  Mother's 
got  it  to  burn  up, — hateful  old  paper  !  Let  me 
see  you  tear  it,  father." 

Was  Robert  still  raving  ?  Captain  Allen  took 
the  paper  that  Eliza  held  out  to  him.  What  was 
it  ?  It  was  the  mortgage,  surely,  if  the  endorse- 
ment on  the  fold  said  truly. 

"  Robert  gives  it  to  you  as  a  token  of  his 
love  and  of  his  and  my  gratitude,"  said  Mr. 
Murray.  "  Open  it.  Captain,  and  see  if  it  is  all 
right." 

Captain  Allen  opened  it.  It  was  right  and 
more  than  right.  There  folded  in  it  was  a  check 
for  two  thousand  dollars.  The  Captain  gasped. 
Never  before  had  he  handled  such  a  sum  of 
money  at  one  time. 

"This  —  this  is  too  much,  I  cannot — we 
should  not " 

"  Nonsense,  Captain.  Don't  you  remember 
once  I  offered  you  the  mortgage  and  two  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  boy?  You  gave  him  to  me. 
I  must  keep  my  share  of  the  bargain." 

"  I  did  not  give  him  to  you,"  faltered  the  Cap- 


314  The  Captains  Bargain. 

tain.  "  He  was  your  own,  and  you  took  him ; 
I  had  no  right  to  him." 

"  We  will  share  him  hereafter  ;  he  belongs  to 
us  both,"  said  Mr.  Murray.  "And  this  little 
matter  of  the  mortgage  and  of  the  money  for  a 
home  and  repairs  is  not  a  question  of  dollars 
between  us,  Allen.  It  is  a  token  of  my  grati- 
tude and  of  Robert's  love.  You  gave  him  a 
home — he  gives  you  a  home.  You  shared  all 
with  him — it  is  his  privilege  to  share  his  with 
you.  You  saved  him  from  ruin — he  tries  to  re- 
turn the  debt  in  some  small  measure.  Whatever 
he  does — whatever  I  do,  we  cannot  show  the 
measure  of  our  gratitude." 

Tears  were  in  all  their  eyes.  This  was  a  beau- 
tiful occasion.  Robert  was  almost  well.  The 
mill  was  safe  ! 

"  Haven't  I  got  the  best  father  in  the  w^orld  ?  " 
cried  Robert.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  how  good  he 
was  to  me  ?  It  seems  as  if  I  could  say  nothing 
but,  '  The  mortgage  is  paid !  the  mortgage  is 
paid  !'     It  goes  just  like  a  song." 

"  Come,  you  must  stop  saying  that  and  every- 
thing else.  Pink,  where  is  the  calves'-foot  jelly  ? " 
cried  Eliza.  "  We  shall  have  this  boy  worse 
again  after  so  much  excitement.  'Zekiel,  you 
had  better  go  and  write  a  letter  to  Bop  and 
Jerry.     Mr.  Murray,  we  should  draw  the  cur- 


yune  Sunshine.  315 

tains  and  make  Robert  go  to  sleep.  Pink,  you 
may  go  and  play  dominoes  or  'fox  and  geese' 
with  Paul  Morgan  ;  his  mother  says  he  is  very 
peevish  to-day.  He  has  been  shut  up  in  his 
room  so  long,  he  is  tired  of  it.  Now,  Robert,  let 
us  hear  no  more  of  you  for  the  next  two  hours  !" 

Robert  did  not  wish  to  be  heard  from.  It  was 
enough — more  than  enough — to  be  able  to  lie 
there  and  think  that  his  great  burden  had  rolled 
away.  The  mill  was  safe ;  his  mother  should 
have  a  house — a  white  house  with  a  veranda. 
His  father  was  friends  with  his  foster-parents, 
and  he  was  to  go  back  to  Lai's  Mountain.  He 
lay  quite  still,  thinking  how  that  house  should 
be  built,  until  he  fell  asleep,  wandering  through 
rooms  whose  shadowy  walls  changed,  enlarged, 
shrank,  as  his  fancy  varied. 

Next  day  young  Morgan  was  able  to  go 
down-stairs.  Soon  his  mother  would  take  him 
home.  And  Robert  was  now  much  stronger, 
sitting  pillowed  up  in  his  bed,  and  developing  a 
marvellous  appetite  for  chicken-broth.  Mrs. 
Morgan  would  be  no  longer  needed  to  rein- 
force Eliza  in  the  case.  The  temperance  treat- 
ment had  been  a  splendid  success. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  non-alcoholic  treat- 
ment now,  Claude?"  Mrs.  Morgan  asked  her 
nephew,  as  she  pointed  to  Robert  and  Paul. 


3i6  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Well,  aunt,  you  have  succeeded  finely,  but 
you  are  a  wonderful  nurse  and  a  miracle  in  sick- 
room cookery,  as  I  know  to  my  advantage,"  said 
Dr.  Lee. 

"  I  should  succeed  every  time  where  the  dis- 
ease was  not  beyond  any  human  help.  Why, 
Claude,  should  we  create  a  fictitious  strength  ? 
-3y  the  law  of  action  and  reaction  the  system 
must  fall  to  a  point  as  far  below  the  normal  as 
it  was  forced  above  it.  Why  exhaust  slowly- 
returning  strength  by  driving  the  feeble  heart  to 
unnatural  work  ?  why,  when  the  blood  is  weak 
frohi  sickness,  send  into  it  an  agent  which  shall 
eat  up  the  red  corpuscles  that  are  needed  to 
build  up  the  body  ?  why  stimulate  the  tired 
brain  ?  why  excite  the  jaded  nerves  ?  why  not 
look  to  Nature's  way  and  give  rest,  complete 
quiet,  and  food, — food  that  will  build  up  evenly 
and  slowly  and  surely  every  hour  ?  True,  using 
alcohols,  your  patient  may  get  well.  Many  a 
patient  gets  well  in  spite  of  the  medicine,  not 
in  virtue  of  it.  And  is  it  not  a  satisfaction  to 
feel  that  your  recovered  patient  has  not  in  him 
the  seeds  of  your  planting  of  future  disease,  or 
worse,  of  a  dangerous  appetite, — a  cause  of  fu- 
ture crime  ?  Mr.  Murray  has  said  I  might  tell 
you  all  his  story,  and  I  will  soon.  He  hopes 
that  it  may  make  of  you  a  temperance  doctor. 


yune  Sunshine.  317 

Young  Galens  such  as  you,  should  be  abreast 
with  the  best  of  your  age.  The  temperance 
doctor  will  be  the  doctor  of  the  future.  A 
young  man  should  be  glad  to  be  a  pioneer  in 
all  that  is  wise  and  good.  Have  you  read  all 
the  books  and  pamphlets  on  this  subject, — the 
statistics  which  I  have  given  you?" 

"  I  am  reading  them.  If  I  perish,  I  shall  not 
perish  unwarned,"  said  Dr.  Lee,  smiling. 

"  It  is  your  patients  which  will  perish  if  you 
do  not  take  warning.  A  doctor  cannot  be  wise 
or  foolish  for  one  alone  ;  he  holds  many  lives  in 
his  hands." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  the  young  doctor,  gravely. 

If  the  days  of  illness  had  been  dark  and  terri- 
ble, the  days  of  convalescence  were  most  cheery 
and  beautiful.  Captain  Ezekiel  went  home ; 
Mr.  Murray  went  with  him,  but  came  back  in 
three  days.  Mother  Eliza  and  Pink  stayed  to 
take  care  of  Robert.  Robert  sat  up  in  bed  and 
listened  to  Pink's  tales  of  all  that  had  happened 
at  Lai's  Mountain  since  the  autumn.  Then  Pink 
must  unpack  the  trunk  and  see  all  the  wonder- 
ful presents  which  Robert's  father  had  heaped 
upon  him.  Then  the  pocket-book  was  taken 
out,  and  there  were  forty  dollars,  Robert's  sav- 
ings, and  nothing  would  do  but  Eliza  must  go 
out  with  Pink  and  buy  spring  hats  and  jackets, 


3i8  The  Captains  Bargain. 

gloves  and  boots,  and  handkerchiefs  and  collars 
for  both. 

*'  I  want  you  to  look  nice  when  the  boys  come 
up  to  see  me,"  pleaded  Robert. 

Then  there  were  hours  when  Pink  read  to 
Robert,  and  other  hours  when  she  placed  a 
drawing-board  on  the  bed  and  played  dominoes 
and  jack-straws-  with  him,  and  they  could  afford 
to  laugh  when  Robert's  hand  would  shake  so 
that  the  straws  were  forfeit  every  time. 

"  Lai's  Mountain  will  steady  your  hand,"  said 
Pink. 

Then  Robert  could  sit  up  in  one  of  the  great 
chairs.  His  father  ordered  the  most  gorgeous 
wrapper  and  slippers.  And  now  his  diet  was 
liberally  increased,  and  a  table  was  set  beside  his 
chair,  and  Pink  shared  with  him  the  most  deli- 
cious feasts  of  chicken,  mushrooms,  fruit,  jellies. 
What  feasting,  what  joy  ! 

Then  the  boys  came  up  to  call  on  the  conva- 
lescent Robert.  Boys  are  sympathetic  creatures 
in  the  main,  and,  no  matter  how  heavily  they 
"are  down  on  a  fellow,"  let  the  fellow  get  into 
trouble,  fall  ill,  be  near  to  death, — they  at  once 
forgive  all  his  iniquities.  Robert  had  failed  to 
be  popular  among  his  mates  at  boarding-school. 
He  had  been  moody,  studied  out  of  hours,  and 
seemed  stingy. 


yune  Sunshine.  '31^ 

North  was  the  first  boy  admitted  to  the  in- 
firmary. 

"  Glad  to  you  see  up,  Murray.  I  declare,  you 
look  much  brighter  than  you  did  before  you  fell 
sick.  Brain  fever  seems  to  have  done  you  good, 
man.  The  fellows  all  sent  their  regards ;  they  are 
dreadfully  sorry  for  you." 

"  That's  kind  of  them,  but  they  needn't  be 
sorry  for  me.  I  never  wa^s  happier  in  my  life. 
I  didn't  think  the  boys  liked  me  very  well, 
North,"  said  Robert. 

"  Oh,  well,  now,"  said  North,  uneasily,  under 
the  straight  look  of  Robert's  brown  eyes,  "  all 
fellows  have  their  own  ways,  you  know.  For 
my  part  I  don't  think  it  is  any  of  our  busi- 
ness whether  you  or  any  one  does  like  the  rest 
of  us  or  not.  Of  course,"  added  North,  floun- 
dering more  and  more,  "we  have  no  right  to 
expect  that  a  fellow  should  join  the  games  if  he 
don't  feel  like  it,  or  give  treats,  or  spend  his 
money  if  he  don't  wish  to." 

"  I  know  what  you  all  mean,"  said  Pink,  who 
was  standing  by  Robert's  chair.  "  You  thought 
Robert  cross  because  he  did  not  do  as  the  rest 
did,  and  stingy  because  he  saved  up  all  his 
money.  Robert,  was  not  that  forty  dol- 
lars  " 

"  Hush,  Pink  ;  never  mind.     It's  done." 


320  The  Captain  s  Bargain, 

"  I  won't  hush,"  said  Eliza's  daughter.  "  Mr. 
Murray  told  me  all  about  it.  Robert  would  not 
take  time  for  the  games  because  he  wanted  to 
get  the  three  prizes,  and  he  wanted  the  three 
prizes  for  the  sixty  dollars,  and  he  was  sav- 
ing  " 

*'I  say,  Pink,  hold  up,  will  you?"  cried  Rob- 
ert. 

"  No,  Robert,  I  won't. — He  was  not  saving 
the  money  for  himself,  or  because  he  was 
greedy.  It  was  for  us.  We  were  poor  and 
had  a  mortgage  on  our  house,  and  we  were  to 
lose  the  mill  because  we  could  not  pay,  and  Rob- 
ert was  trying  to  get  money  to  pay  the  mortgage 
for  us.  He  tried  to  save  every  cent, — all  for  us. 
And  now  his  father  has  paid  it  all  off,  and  Rob- 
ert gave  mother  and  me  the  money  that  he  had 
Laved,  and  he  made  us  buy  things  for  ourselves. 
I  bought  these  boots.  I  never  had  a  pair  so 
nice  before.  You  see,  Robert  got  lost  when  he 
was  little,  and  my  father  found  him  and  adopted 
him,  and  he  thinks  that  is  a  reason  for  doing 
everything  for  us." 

"  I  ought  to  think  so,"  said  Robert,  who  had 
vainly  tried  by  nudges  and  pokes  to  stop  Pink's 
t  loquence.  "  North,  they  did  everything  for  me. 
I  shared  all  they  had.  They  went  without  things 
to  get  me  things.     They  worked  for  me.    They 


yune  Sunshine.  321 

sat  up  nights  with  me  when  I  was  sick.  They 
loved  me  just  like  their  own.  It  would  be 
queer  if  I  could  not  do  a  little  thing  like  that 
for  them." 

"  I  say  it  was  fine,"  cried  North,  charmed  with 
this  explanation  and  with  Pink's  fervid  cham- 
pionship.    "  I  say  it  was  fine  all  round  !" 

The  next  day,  when  the  matron  came  to  pay 
her  regular  morning  visit  to  the  invalid,  she 
brought  a  splendid  bouquet  of  hot-house  flow- 
ers, "  Sent  by  the  boys  to  Master  Murray." 

Not  a  word  .further  was  ever  spoken  about 
previous  misunderstandings.  The  boys  and 
Robert  thought  that  the  flowers  had  fully  ex- 
pressed all  that  was  proper  to  be  said  on  the  oc- 
casion. 

And  now  Pink  and  Robert  spent  hours, 
sheets  of  paper,  red  ink  and  black  ink,  and 
words  innumerable,  upon  plans  for  the  new 
house  to  be  built  on  the  long-selected  site  near 
the  mill.  Seven  rooms,  a  veranda,  an  outside 
kitchen,  this  house  must  have.  They  drew  plan 
after  plan.  One  very  choice  plan,  on  being 
presented  to  "  the  woman-with-a-head-on-her- 
shoulders,"  was  found,  though  containing  only 
seven  rooms,  to  be  about  as  large  as  a  hotel. 
Another  chef  d'ceuvre  unluckily  omitted  the 
staircase  altogether,  and  gave  no  access  to  the 


322  The  Captain! s  Bargain. 

cellar  except  by  going  entirely  round  the  house 
outside.  Another  was  deemed  perfect,  until  it 
was  found  that  every  room  was  hermetically 
sealed  as  to  doorways,  and  there  would  be  no 
way  of  entrance  except  by  ladders  and  through 
the  windows.  Pink  was  therefore  discarded  as 
assistant  architect,  and,  Eliza  and  Robert  going 
into  partnership,  produced  a  very  nice  plan, 
which  Mr.  Murray  carried  off  to  Lai's  Moun- 
tain. 

From  Lai's  Mountain  came  the  most  delight- 
ful news.  The  New  York  man,  who  had  been 
disappointed  about  securing  the  mill,  did  not 
resign  his  notion  of  a  summer  hotel.  He 
bought  a  spot  half  a  mile  higher  up  the  creek 
and  went  to  work  in  haste.  The  new  building 
would  furnish  work  for  the  Captain,  Jerry,  and 
Bop.  Besides,  they  would  work  on  their  own 
new  home,  and  on  repairs  on  the  mill,  and  the 
present  living-rooms  were  to  be  turned  into  a 
good  carpenter's  shop.  As  for  the  barge,  that 
was  to  be  replaced  by  a  smaller,  handsomer,  less 
cumbersome  craft, with  a  little  steam-engine  using 
coal-oil  for  fuel,  and  this  craft  was  to  be  used  as 
a  pleasure-boat  for  the  boarders  and  tourists,  and 
it  was  supposed  that  Jerry  and  Bop  as  captain 
and  crew  would  harvest  shekels. 

Captain  'Zekiel  wrote    that    the   twins   had 


June  Sunshine.  323 

turned  over  a  new  leaf  and  behaved  beautif'uHy 
in  their  joy  of  new  fortunes.  The  girl  cooked 
and  kept  house  almost  as  well  as  Pink,  and  her 
twin-brother  made  fires,  fed  the  fowls,  cleaned 
the  windows  and  garden,  and  kept  Robert  as  a 
model  before  his  eyes. 

"  Father  will  have  to  make  us  some  new 
furniture,"  said  Pink,  "  everybody  has  outgrown 
the  old  trundle-beds.  But  we  have  the  two 
carpets  that  mother  and  Jerry  made,  and  they 
will  do  for  our  best  rooms,  that's  one  comfort." 

Whereupon  Robert  burst  into  hilarious  laugh- 
ter. 

Finally,  by  the  middle  of  April,  Robert  was 
pronounced  quite  well.  Doctor  Lee  thought 
he  should  remain  in  the  city  until  June,  and  do 
no  more  studying  until  fall. 

"  I've  made  poor  work  of  school-life  this  year, 
father,"  said  Robert,  "  but  next  fall  I'll  come 
back  and  get  on  all  right.  I  like  this  school  and 
the  fellows  first-rate  now." 

''The  failure  was  all  my  fault,"  said  his  fa- 
ther, "  and  what  do  you  want  to  do  for  a  busi- 
ness, Robert  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  go  into  business,"  said  Robert, 
'•  into  the  lumber  business,  if  you  don't  mind. 
I've  been  among  the  mills  and  the  lumber  all 
my  life,     \  can't  tell  you  bow  I  like  a  lumber- 


324  The  Captains  Bargain. 

yard.  The  smell  of  all  the  wood  makes  me 
think  of  the  forests,  and  the  logging-camps,  and 
log-drives,  and  the  mills,  and  the  water-wheels. 
You  won't  mind,  will  you  ?  I  really  feel  sure  I 
haven't  the  making  of  a  President  of  any  kind  in 
me.     I  am  a  very  common  person." 

Mr.  Murray  laughed. 

"  Be  what  you  like,  so  that  you  do  honestly 
and  well,  whatever  work  you  undertake." 

Then  Eliza  and  Pink  went  back  to  Lai's 
Mountain,  and  left  Robert  to  come  with  the 
June  sunshine. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

MR.    MURRAY    BUILDS    BETTER    HOUSES. 

Mr.  Murray's  new  house  was  finished  and 
the  furnishing  began.  A  happy  chance  brought 
Mrs.  Morgan  to  the  city,  and  she  became  chief 
adviser  and  aid  in  that  buying.  But  to  Robert 
the  most  delightful  part  of  it  was  that  he  was 
buying  not  only  for  his  own  room  in  the  West 
Philadelphia  house,  but  for  that  dear  new  seven- 
room  house  at  Lai's  Mountain.  In  the  excess 
of  his  joy  he  would  have  bought  plush  chairs,  or 
pictures  nearly  as  large  as  the  humble  walls,  and 
have  left  out  simple  kitchen  appurtenances  alto- 
gether. But  Mrs.  Morgan  saved  him  from  such 
indiscretions.  She  expounded  that  the  house  on 
Lai's  Mountain  should  be  furnished  to  suit  Lai's 
Mountain,  and  that  as  Eliza  did  her  own  work, 
her  furnishings  should  not  make  work  burden- 
some. But  the  rag-carpets  were  relegated  to 
the  kitchen  and  the  boys'  bed-room,  and  the 
parlor  had  a  Brussels  carpet,  a  parlor  organ,  and 
a  little  book-case,  filled  with  just  the  right  books 
for  every  one.     Never  was  human  being  hap- 

(32^ 


326  The  Captains  Bargain, 

pier  than  Robert  over  every  separate  set  of 
cottage-furniture,  over  every  chair  and  table, 
over  the  hogshead  packed  with  crockery.  Mr. 
Murray  grew  ten  years  younger  in  witnessing 
his  son's  ecstasies.  Perhaps,  also,  his  rejuvena- 
tion was  partly  due  to  the  expansion  of  his  own 
heart  in  deeds  of  just  liberality,  in  expression  of 
gratitude ;  for  there  is  nothing  does  us  so  much 
good  as  the  exercise  of  these  virtues.  "  He 
who  giveth,  groweth  like  his  God." 

"  You  seemed  to  take  comparatively  little  in- 
terest in  our  shopping  last  fall,  Robert,  but  now 
you  are  mad  with  joy." 

"  Yes,  but  that  was  only  for  me  ;  and  I  had 
never  felt  the  need  of  the  things  I  was  getting. 
Besides,  then  I  was  so  stunned  at  losing  my  old 
home  and  family  I  could  only  think  of  them. 
Now  I  am  as  happy  as  I  can  be." 

Indeed,  Mr.  Murray  did  not  find  that  he  him- 
self was  loved  any  the  less,  because  other  love 
was  not  repressed.  Robert  thought  there  never 
was  such  a  good  father  as  his.  And  now  the 
buying  was  complete,  and  it  was  time  to  set  out 
for  Lai's  Mountain.  Mr.  Murray  and  Robert 
were  to  live  at  the  chalet,  and  the  deaf-mute  had 
put  the  little  place  in  order,  and  was  waiting  to 
receive  them.  But  the  last  exploit  before  leav- 
ing Philadelphia  rendered  Robert  jubilant  beyond 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses.     327 

description;  he  laughed  until  he  cried,  he  laughed 
until  he  lay  back  on  the  sofa,  and  made  their 
rooms  at  the  hotel  ring  with  his  glee.  What 
was  he  laughing  at  ?  At  Jerry.  One  of  the 
wildest  dreams  of  Robert's  life  became  a  reality. 
He  sent  for  Jerry  to  come  to  the  city,  and  he 
sent  him  back  a  new  Jerry,  whom  scarcely  any 
one  recognized.  He  bought  for  Jerry  a  patent 
leg,  with  springs  so  artfully  constructed  that 
Jerry  was  more  content  than  ever  with  his  con- 
dition, only  this  "  new  leg  needed  a  boot  like  a 
Christian,"  as  Jerry  put  it.  Also,  Jerry  got  a 
glass  eye,  "  a  glass  eye  that  looked  just  like  a 
real  eye,  so  that  Jerry  himself  could  hardly  tell 
which  was  glass  and  which  was  real."  When 
Jerry,  with  a  booted  patent  leg,  a  glass  eye,  a 
new  tweed  suit,  and  a  head  for  the  first  and  last 
time  manipulated  by  a  city  barber,  appeared  be- 
fore Robert,  Robert  executed  a  war  -  dance, 
shouted  and  shrieked  with  fun,  until  his  father 
remonstrated  in  favor  of  order ;  and  then  the 
boy  rolled  on  the  sofa  and  laughed  until  he  stop- 
ped from  sheer  exhaustion, 

"  I  never  had  such  fun  as  in  rebuilding  Jerry," 
he  declared.  "  When  we  went  to  supper  no  one 
scared  at  Jerry  ;  he  looked  just  like  other  peo- 
ple. No  one  would  guess  that  we'd  bought 
nearly  half  of  him  at  a  shop." 


328  The   Captains  Bargain. 

"Well,  it's  time,"  said  Jerry,  surveying  him- 
self in  the  cheval-glass.  "I'm  nearly  as  good 
as  new.  No  one  would  think  that  me  and 
whiskey  had  had  such  troubles.  I've  got  the 
better  of  the  work  of  that  old  black  bottle  now." 

"You  should  have  a  coat  of  arms,  Jerry," 
said  Robert.  "  I  will  illuminate  an  original  one 
for  you,  m  red  and  gilt,  if  you  like,  and  a  little 
black  and  blue.  I  should  suggest  a  bottle,  noir, 
prostrate,  a  Temperance  Badge,  <£or  rampant, 
a  pledge,  gules  volant,  a  few  other  things,  and 
the  motto,  '  Rejoice  not  over  me,  oh  !  mine 
enemy.' " 

"  Robert,  Robert,  I  fear  you  are  going  out  of 
your  head  again  ! "  said  his  father. 

"There's  just  one  thing  more  I  want,"  said 
Robert,  "and  that  I  can't  have.  I  would  like 
to  see  Bop  and  the  twins  when  Jerry  goes  into 
the  mill  to-morrow  morning." 

Robert  found  that  there  had  been  another 
thing  which  he  wanted.  At  least,  he  wanted  it 
when  it  was  offered  to  him, — and  that  was  a 
horse.  A  pair  of  saddle-horses  came  round  one 
morning  to  the  hotel  for  Mr.  Murray  and  Rob- 
ert.    They  went  to  ride  them  in  Fairmount  Park. 

"  How  do  you  like  that  horse  ?  "  asked  Mr. 
Murray. 

"  He  is  splendid  !  "  cried  Robert. 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses.     329 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so.  He  is  yours.  This 
one  is  mine.  We  are  going  to  ride  all  the  way 
from  the  city  to  the  cottage  at  Lai's  Mountain. 
1  low  will  you  like  that  ?  " 

"  I  couldn't  like  anything  better." 

"  And  I  am  negotiating  for  the  purchase  of  an 
interest  in  a  large  lumber-yard,  so  that  I  shall 
have  an  opening  for  you.  After  another  year 
in  school,  or  two  perhaps,  you  must  go  into 
the  business  and  learn  it  thoroughly  from  the 
beginning.     No  half-way  doings  for  me." 

That  was  a  beautiful  journey  to  Lai's  Moun- 
tain. The  world  was  in  all  the  glory,  the  sunny 
warmth,  the  delicious  perfumed  air  of  June. 
Each  mile  of  the  way  the  scenery  seemed  to 
grow  lovelier  and  lovelier.  Robert  told  his  fa- 
ther tales  of  his  journeys  down  the  Schuylkill  in 
the  barge  Fair-Weather.  Mr.  Murray  did  not 
now  resent  these  tales.  He  saw  that  his  son 
had  had  a  safe  and  happy  childhood,  which 
had  moulded  him  in  upright  and  generous 
feelings. 

They  rode  along  the  banks  of  the  beautiful 
river,  and  Robert  in  his  joy  sang  songs  that 
Eliza  had  sung  to  her  children  as  they  drifted 
down-stream  in  the  Fair-  Weather. 

"  The  water !  the  water ! 

The  dear  and  blessed  thing. 


33®  The  Captains  Bargain. 

Which  all  day  fed  the  little  flowers 
On  its  banks  blossoming. 

"  The  water !  the  water  ! 

That  murmured  in  my  ear 
Hymns  of  a  saint-like  purity 

Which  angels  well  might  hear, 
And  whisper  in  the  gate  of  heaven 
How  meek  a  pilgrim  there  was  shriven." 

Or  again,  when  his  father  would  say,  "  Sing, 
Robert,"  he  would  chant : 

"  Now  to  the  rivulets  from  the  mountains 

Point  the  rods  of  the  fortune-tellers, 
Youth  perpetual  dwells  in  fountains, 

Not  in  flasks  and  casks  and,cellars. 
Then  with  the  water  fill  the  pitcher, 

Wreathed  about  with  classic  fables, 
Ne'er  Falernian  threw  a  richer 

Light  upon  Lucullus'  tables." 

"  That  makes  me  think,  Robert,  I  must  buy 
for  us  a  '  Longfellow  pitcher.'  As  good  tem- 
perance people,  we  must  have  one  of  those  po- 
etic jugs  for  the  centre  of  our  table," 

"  I  wish,"  said  Robert,  "  that  some  one  would 
collect  all,  or  as  much  as  possible,  of  the  pretty 
things  the  poets  have  said  about  temperance 
and  water  and  put  them  into  a  little  gift-book. 
North  is  great  on  Latin,  and  he  gave  us  out 
some  nice  things  one  day  from  the  Latin  poets 
about  water.     But  from  what  I  heard  the  fellows 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses,     331 

reading  in  the  higher  classes,  I  reckoned  they  said 
a  deal  more  in  praise  of  wine." 

"  That  is  true.  But  I  think  they  would  not 
have  praised  so  freely  if  they  had  had  wines  as 
alcoholic  as  we  have  now,  or  if  they  had  had 
rum,  gin,  and  brandy  with  their  horrible  effects. 
It  took  a  deal  of  the  wine  of  the  ancients  to 
produce  a  drunkenness, — very  mild  and  brief  in 
comparison  with  the  drunkenness  that  is  the 
product  of  the  alcoholic  drinks  of  our  day.  Peo- 
ple often  forget  how  comparatively  modern  a 
thing  distillation  is.  We  should  have  had  anti- 
liquor  crusades  hundreds  of  years  ago,  if  the 
need  had  been  as  great  as  it  has  now  grown  to 
be." 

Stopping  as  they  chose,  to  rest  and  view  the 
scenery,  it  was  the  third  day  when  the  ride 
ended  by  their  reaching  the  mill.  What  a 
change  was  there.  Beyond  the  mill,  on  the  level, 
shaded  by  the  big  chestnut-tree,  rose  the  new 
house.  On  the  ridge  of  the  roof  sat  Captain 
'Zekiel,  shingling  away  with  all  his  might.  On 
a  scaffolding,  at  one  corner,  stood  Bop,  nailing 
on  clap-boards,  with  the  skill  of  an  experienced 
carpenter.  On  the  ground  stood  the  recon- 
structed Jerry,  also  nailing  on  clap-boards.  Up 
and  down  ran  the  youngest  boy,  carrying  clap- 
boards to  the  workers.     In  the  garden,  near  the 


332  The  Captains  Bargain. 

beehives,  singing  to  the  bees,  sat  Pink  in  a 
white  apron,  her  knitting  in  her  hands  as  usual. 
The  youngest  sister  saw  them  coming,  and  down 
the  road  she  dashed,  waving  her  hands,  her  hair 
floating  out  on  the  breeze.  Pink  heard  the  note 
of  joy,  and  dropped  her  knitting.  Eliza  hurried 
from  the  kitchen,  where  she  was  cooking  supper. 
She  came  waving  a  meat-fork,  just  as  when 
Robert  had  first  seen  her,  but  not  now  to  order 
off  Robert.  She  would  as  soon  have  thought 
of  ordering  off  Pink  or  Bop  or  the  twins,  as  her 
dear  Robert.  The  cries  of  welcome  echoed  up 
to  the  new  house,  and  Captain  'Zekiel  scrambled 
from  the  roof.  Bop  came  nearly  headlong  from 
the  scaffolding,  Jerry  dropped  his  hammer,  and 
the  whole  family  clustered  about  Robert  as  bees 
about  a  new  queen. 

They  all  had  supper  in  the  mill-kitchen,  and 
Eliza  brought  out  her  best  preserves  and  the 
fruit-cake  which  she  had  kept  in  readiness.  It 
was  nine  o'clock  before  Robert  and  the  Super- 
intendent set  off  for  their  cottage,  where  the 
deaf-mute  was  waiting  for  them,  the  rooms 
decked  with  flowers  in  festive  array. 

Then  began  a  joyous  summer.  Robert  helped 
work  on  the  new  house.  He  nailed  on  clap- 
boards, and  watched  the  hanging  of  doors,  and 
he  and  Pink  did  nearly  all  the  inside  painting, 


J/r.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses.     333 

and  under  his  direction,  as  he  said  "  it  was  all 
the  fashion,"  they  stained  and  varnished  a  wal- 
nut border  a  foot  wide  around  each  floor  "  to 
go  around  the  carpets." 

"  Only,  you  know,  Robert,  it  will  look  rather 
funny  before  we  get  any  carpets,"  said  Pink. 

"  Until  then,"  said  Robert,  gravely,  "  we  will 
pretend  that  the  white  wood  part  is  a  matting." 
And  they  both  laughed  with  delight  at  this  con- 
ceit. 

As  to  all  that  furniture  which  he  had  bought, 
Robert  said  never  one  word.  He  overheard 
the  family  planning  where  they  should  place 
their  few  small  possessions  in  the  new  house, 
and  he  laughed  in  his  sleeve. 

At  last  the  house  was  finished  and  cleaned. 
Then  Robert  announced  that  the  next  day 
would  be  his  birthday,  and  they  must  all  drop 
work,  and  spend  it  with  him  at  the  chalet. 

"  But,  Robert,  we  meant  to  move  to-morrow," 
said  Eliza. 

"Oh,  put  off  moving  for  a  day,  can't  you, 
mother?  I  shall  take  it  very  hard  of  you  if  you 
do  not  spend  with  me  the  first  birthday  I  have 
ever  kept." 

"  I  knew  that  remark  would  fetch  'em,"  he 
said,  in  gleeful  confidence  to  his  father. 

It   fetched   them.      They  all   came  up   the 


334  ^^^   Captains  Bargain. 

hill  and  spent  the  day,  and  had  a  very  merry 
time. 

During  the  day  several  loaded  wagons  stop- 
ped at  the  new  house,  and  the  Britt  family  went 
there  in  a  very  free  and  easy  fashion.  They  set 
the  new  furniture  in  place,  and  brought  in  and 
distributed  all  the  things  from  the  living-rooms 
at  the  mill.  Curtains  were  put  at  all  the  win- 
dows and  carpets  were  laid. 

When  the  Aliens  at  nightfall  came  home, 
they  went  into  the  new  house  to  take  a  look, 
and  could  hardly  believe  their  eyes.  It  was  fur- 
nished throughout.  In  the  parlor  was  the  organ,  a 
music-rack,  music,  a  little  book-case,  some  books, 
pictures  on  the  walls,  a  black  sofa,  and  some 
cane-seat  chairs  around  a  nice  table.  Eliza's  kitch- 
en-ware was  in  the  new  kitchen.  At  the  back 
door  waited  a  hogshead  of  new  crockery. 

"  It  looked,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel,  "just  as  if 
some  other  people  had  moved  in  while  they 
were  gone  and  meant  to  live  there." 

"  It  looked,"  said  Bop,  "just  as  if  they  owned 
Aladdin's  lamp.  Was  there  anything  else  they 
could  wish  for  ?  " 

No.     Bop  did  not  think  there  was. 

"  They  were  so  rich,  they  felt  like  kings  and 
queens ! " 

They  slept  in  the  new  house  that  night ;  that 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses.     335 

is,  they  sat  up  and  walked  around  and  talked 
and  looked,  and  Captain  'Zekiel  rubbed  his 
hands  and  said  over  and  over  acrain  : 

"  Oh,  what  bad  bargains  I  make  ;  don't  I, 
'Liza?  There  was  Jerry,  and  there  was  Rob- 
ert. But  Robert — I  should  have  carried  off  to 
the  poorhouse,  shouldn't  I,  'Liza?  Oh,  a  Bad 
Bargain  was  Robert ! " 

"The  Bargain  you  made  about  Robert  was 
the  very  best  bargain  you  ever  made  in  your  life, 
'Zekiel." 

"So  it  was,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel,  seriously. 
"  If  it  had  not  been  for  that  bargain  I  made 
about  him,  by  now  I  should  be  in  a  drunkard's 
grave,  and  you  and  the  children  would  be  scat- 
tered'most  any  where,  having  hard  lines,  all  of  you. 
I  did  not  see  my  danger  then.  I  felt  that  there 
was  no  danger,  but  now  I  see  where  1  stood.  I 
was  loving  the  drink  more  and  more  each  day,  and 
was  going  down-hill  just  as  fast  as  I  could." 

"  Why,  father,"  said  the  twin-boy,  "you  don't 
mean  to  say  you  could  ever  have  been  a  drunk- 
»  ard,  do  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do.  Take  warning  !  Any  man  may 
become  a  drunkard  who  begins  to  drink  at  all. 
True,  he  may  not,  but  the  chances  are  very 
heavily  against  him.  There  is  one  safe  way — 
the  way  of  total  abstinence." 


33^  The  Captains  Bargain. 

"  Hold  on  there,  Captain,"  cried  Jerry,  "even 
that  is  not  always  a  safe  way.  I  didn't  find  it 
so.  I  never  drank  a  drop,  but  I  lost  a  leg  and 
an  eye  along  of  drink,  though  to  look  at  me  now 
you  might  not  think  it.  I  say  there  is  only  one 
safe  way — the  way  of  National  Prohibi- 
tion ! " 

"  Hurrah  for  National  Prohibition  ! "  cried 
Bop  and  his  brother,  and  over  the  new  Brussels 
carpet,  out  over  the  veranda,  out  upon  the  grass 
under  the  chestnut-tree  they  went,  turning  hand- 
springs, until  they  looked  like  a  pair  of  queer 
living  wheels. 

"  Come  right  in  and  go  to  bed,"  said  Eliza. 
•'  It  is  nearly  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  The 
idea  of  you  boys  turning  somersaults  over  a 
brand-new  carpet ! " 

"  It's  the  carpet  and  the  house  and  all  the 
other  things  which  make  us  so  happy,"  cried 
Bop,  and  he  and  his  brother,  followed  by  Jerry, 
marched  up  to  bed  to  the  tune  of  a  song  which 
they  had  just  learned  at  the  red  school-house  : 

"  One  more  river  to  cross  ! 
The  river  of  Prohibition  ! 
One  more  river  to  cross ! " 

"  They'll  have  the  roof  down  with  their 
noise,"  laughed  Eliza. 

"  It  is  a  strong  roof,  and  the  song  is  a  good 


Mr.  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses.     337 

song,"  said  Captain  'Zekiel ;  "  but,  'Liza,  you 
and  I  are  older,  and  the  song  we  feel  to  sing  is 
a  different  song,  '  The  lines  have  fallen  unto  me 
in  pleasant  places ;  yea,  I  have  a  goodly  heri- 
tage,' and  *  What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord 
for  all  His  benefits  toward  me?'" 

"And  there  is  another,  Ezekiel,"  said  Eliza, 
)aying  her  hand  on  his  arm  ;  "a  song  which  be- 
longs to  you,  for  you  always  had  a  generous 
heart,  doing  good  as  you  had  opportunity, — 
'  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  for  thou  shalt 
find  it  after  many  days';  '  Blessed  are  they  that 
sow  beside  all  waters.' " 

And,  at  last,  silence  and  sleep  fell  over  the 
new  home. 

All  the  neighborhood  rejoiced  in  the  improved 
fortunes  of  the  Aliens,  and  in  the  happiness  and 
restored  health  of  the  Superintendent. 

The  history  of  Robert  was  a  beautiful  little 
romance  let  into  the  commonplaces  of  Lai's 
Mountain. 

It  seemed  that  now  all  things  would  prosper 
with  Captain  'Zekiel.  He  found  business  im- 
proving. The  summer  hotel  with  its  guests 
promised  to  be  a  source  of  revenue. 

The  first  trip  of  the  new  Fair-  Weather  was 
an  event.  All  the  people  from  the  tourists' 
camp    went.       For   some   days   the    boat  was 


338  The  Captains  Bargain. 

crowded  every  trip.  Men,  women,  and  chil- 
dren,— all  wanted  to  go  to  Lacy  in  the  steam- 
barge.  Also,  it  was  chartered  by  the  artists  for 
longer  excursions. 

In  the  new,  white  house,  which  had  been  the 
ideal  of  her  days,  Mrs.  'Liza  lost  her  careworn 
look  and  took  a  fresh  lease  of  life.  She  woke 
in  the  morning,  she  slept  at  night,  without  be- 
ing burdened  with  that  terrible  mortgage. 

Captain  Allen  had  now  his  laugh  and  his  joke 
for  everybody.  He  had  always  been  cheery, 
now  he  was  simply  hilarious. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more  I  am  thinking  of, 
Mrs.  Allen,"  said  the  Superintendent.  "  I  want 
to  send  Pink  to  a  good  school  for  two  or  three 
years.  Do  you  know  our  Robert  was  planning 
that  ?  He  thinks  of  everything,  that  boy  !  Yes, 
yes,  it  is  altogether  better  that  Pink  should  have 
advantages  that  she  cannot  get  here.  We  will 
find  her  a  school  near  Philadelphia.  I  have 
given  you  half  of  Robert,  I  think  you  must 
give  me  half  of  Pink." 

"It  seems  only  fair  play,"  said  Mrs.  Allen 
with  a  laugh. 

"  I  shall  have  a  fine  time  next  winter,"  said 
Mr.  Murray.  "  Once  a  month,  Robert,  you  will 
come  home  from  Friday  afternoon  till  Monday, 
and  once  a  month  Pink  will  come  in  the  same 


Mr,  Murray  Builds  Better  Houses.     339 

way.  I  shall  give  one  of  my  rooms  to  Pink  and 
call  it  by  her  name.  But  I  shall  not  have  you 
both  home  the  same  week,  mind  you.  That 
would  be  a  feast  one  week  and  a  famine  the 
next.  I  shall  have  my  company  by  installments, 
so  I  will  not  be  too  lonesome." 

"  All  right,"  laughed  Robert  and  Pink. 

"  You'll  let  us  come  home  together  for  Thanks- 
giving and  Christmas,  won't  you  ?"  said  Robert. 

"  Oh,  Pink  must  come  here  for  Christmas," 
cried  Eliza.  "  I  cannot  give  up  Pink  for  nine 
months  together." 

"  Pink,  Pink,  why  does  every  one  think  so 
much  of  you?"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

"  Little,  plain,  red-headed  girl.  I'm  surprised 
at  it;  aren't  you,  father?"  whispered  Robert 
saucily  in  his  father's  ear. 

"  Can't  we  go  to  the  city  ? "  screamed  the 
twins. 

"  Bop  shall  come  to  the  city  in  four  years  to 
go  into  my  lumber-yard,"  said  Robert  import- 
antly. 

"  Don't  count  on  me  to  come,"  said  Jerry. 
••  I'd  rather  give  up  my  new  leg  and  my  new  eye 
than  leave  the  Allen  mill.  Hush  up,  you  noisy 
twins  !  You'll  stop  here  with  me  and  help  run 
Lai's  Mountain." 

It  was  thus  through  "  The  Captain's  Bargain  " 


340  The  Captain's  Bargain, 

that  fairer  fortunes  came  to  all  the  Captain's 
family.  "  Theire  is  that  giveth  and  yet  increas- 
eth." 

And  three  or  four  years  later,  when  Robert 
was  a  diligent  young  man  of  business  in  the 
city,  his  father  said  to  him,  one  day,  of  some 
new  venture  : 

"  I  made  a  deal  of  money  by  that,  Robert. 
You  will  be  a  rich  man.  What  will  you  do  with 
your  fortune?" 

"  Father,"  said  Robert,  "  you  remember  how 
you  used  to  pass  the  old  mill  and  lean  down 
from  your  horse,  and  hand  me  toys  or  boxes  of 
candy  and  say,  '  What  will  you  do  with  them  ?* 
What  did  I  use  to  say  ?  " 

"  You  used  to  say,  '  Half  for  Pink,' "  said  his 
father. 

"  Well,  I  haven't  changed  my  views  yet,"  said 
Robert. 

"  All  right,"  said  his  father  ;  "  only  remember 
that  we  are  all  only  stewards  and  lease-holders 
of  God,  and  we  should  say  of  what  we  have, 
'All  for  Heaven  and  for  Humanity.'  " 


THE   END. 


^     000  130  035 


